j    THE    PEACOCK    LIBRARY 

|        A    SAWDUST    DOLL 

BY 
TUfBS.  REGINALD  DE  KOVEN 


SM. 
B!)f 
WO  fACIfIC   At 


/  f  ^ 

The  Peacock   Library* 
f 


A  Sawdust  Doll 


Sawdust  Doll 


Mrs.   Reginald  de  Koven 


CHICAGO 

Stone    and    Kimball 
MDCCCXCV 


COPYRIGHT,     1895 
BY  STONE  *    KIM  HALL 


FIRST    EDITION 
MARCH    23RD. 
SECOND  EDITION- 
MARCH    27TH. 


Chapter  I. 


said  General  Riv- 
ington  to  the  old  servant  who 
was  standing  behind  his  chair,  "it  is 
chilly.  You  may  light  the  fire." 

It  was  nine  o'clock,  the  habitual 
breakfast  hour  in  this  house,  in  Wash- 
ington Square,  which  had  been  Gen- 
eral Rivington's  home  for  sixty  years. 
The  table  at  which  he  sat  had  never 
been  set  for  more  than  two,  but  had 
always  stood  in  lonely  dignity  in  the 
midst  of  the  panelled  dining-room 
covered  with  the  same  spotless  damask, 
the  same  silver,  old  English  and  pol- 
ished to  an  irreproachable  whiteness, 
which  he  remembered  as  a  child.  Those 
long  past  years  seemed  to  linger  in  the 
room;  seemed  to  speak  to  him  some- 
times in  the  familiar  hum  of  the  tea- 


2046392 


2  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

kettle.  He  could  see  himself  as  a  child 
sitting  silently  opposite,  his  eyes  dwell- 
ing upon  the  gray  head  of  his  father 
bent  over  his  newspaper,  or  wandering 
upward  and  beyond  to  the  girlish  face 
of  his  mother,  known  only  thus  in  her 
portrait  which  had  already  taken  its 
place  among  the  score  of  silent  faces 
which  filled  the  walls ;  but  for  many 
years  he  had  occupied  his  father's  chair, 
and  for  years  the  two  portraits  of  his 
father  and  mother  had  hung  side  by  side 
on  the  oak  panelling  above  the  fire- 
place— that  of  his  father  done  late  in 
life  with  his  gray  hair,  high  aquiline 
nose,  his  head  stiffly  borne  in  its  stock, 
his  jurist's  hand  upon  a  law-book — 
beside  the  slender  lady  with  her  velvet 
gown  and  sloping  shoulders,  her  ring- 
lets and  her  pearls,  whose  plaintive 
grace  and  old  time  elegance  spoke  of  an 
earlier  day. 

Alexander   Rivington    had  inherited 
the    aquiline    sternness  of   his  father's 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  3 

features,  but  a  different  expression  was 
imparted  to  them  by  the  mobile  bril- 
liancy of  his  dark  eyes  and  the  modish 
arrangement  of  his  gray  hair  which 
curled  upon  the  temples  and  was  cut, 
with  a  fantastic  suggestion  of  old  time 
coquetry,  straight  across  the  brow.  The 
military  bearing  of  his  tall  figure,  still 
slight  and  perfectly  erect,  completed 
the  impression  of  a  distinguished  man, 
whom  fortune  had  made  an  arbiter  of 
fashion  and  pride  had  made  a  soldier. 
The  hand  which  held  the  newspaper  was 
scrupulously  kept,  of  a  smooth,  long- 
fingered  type,  showing  both  taste  and 
distinction,  but  it  was  full  veined  and  a 
little  tremulous.  His  brows  were  drawn 
together  over  the  eyes  which  scanned 
the  paper,  he  moved  impatiently  and 
looked  often  at  the  door. 

The  dishes  remained  covered  and  the 
tea-kettle  boiled  imperiously.  General 
Rivington  gave  a  sigh  of  irritation  and 
laying  down  his  paper  began  to  turn 


4  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

over  the  letters  which  had  been  placed 
beside  his  plate, 

The  door  opened  and  a  young  woman 
entered  with  a  graceful,  rapid  step, 
trailing  her  white  garments  behind  her, 
her  small  heels  clicking  on  the  wooden 
floor. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  I  am  late,"  she  said 
as  she  took  her  seat.  "  Why  have  you 
waited  for  me?" 

"My  dear,"  replied  her  husband,  with 
a  marked  air  of  formality,  "  I  should 
never  think  of  beginning  without  you." 

She  sighed,  and  putting  up  a  white 
hand  leaned  her  head  languidly  upon 
it,  stifling  a  yawn.  The  invariable 
breakfast  hour  was  one  of  the  few  un- 
changeable rules  in  this  house,  whose 
mistress  she  had  been  for  ten  years,  and 
one  of  the  few  exactions  which  her  hus- 
band's indulgence  imposed  upon  her. 
But  sometimes  it  was  an  effort;  she  had 
danced  until  four  o'clock.  "  This  morn- 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  5 

ing,  surely,"  she  thought  to  herself,  "  it 
is  really  good  of  me  to  be  down." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  while 
the  servants  served  the  breakfast,  and 
General  Rivington  surveyed  his  wife's 
bent  head,  noting  the  blue  tinge  about  the 
eyes,  the  pallor  of  her  small  dark  face. 

"How  was  your  ball?"  he  asked. 
"  You  look  a  trifle  pale.  I  am  not  sorry 
it  is  the  last." 

"  No,  nor  I,"  she  replied,  looking  up 
from  her  plate  with  a  glance  of  languid 
acquiescence.  "  Really  they  are  hardly 
worth  the  trouble." 

"  Rather  a  painful  duty,  I  always  con- 
sidered them,"  said  her  husband.  "  One 
I  am  very  glad  to  leave  you  to — but  I 
thought  they  amused  you.  You  went 
with  the  Lindsays,  didn't  you?" 

"Yes,  Kate  would  not  take  no  for  an 
answer  —  said  she  had  supper  all  ar- 
ranged for,  and  besides  I  had  promised 
Tom  Gary  the  cotillion  ever  since  the 


6  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

beginning  of  the  season.     It  was  pretty 
enough." 

The  annoyance  had  quite  faded  from 
General  Rivington's  face.  He  drank  his 
coffee  leisurely  and  looked  frequently 
at  his  wife.  Ten  years  had  passed  since 
their  marriage  but  her  arresting  per- 
sonality had  still  for  him  the  charm  of 
mystery  not  quite  revealed.  It  was  a 
difficult  task  for  anyone  who  knew  her 
to  think  of  anything  else  when  she  was 
near.  If  he  had  been  a  younger  man 
he  would  have  suffered  as  well  as  loved 
her ;  with  thirty  years  between  them,  his 
affection  for  his  young  wife  had  become 
less  jealous  than  indulgent.  He  real- 
ized that  the  obedience  she  showed  him 
was  of  her  own  loyalty  and  not  of  com- 
pulsion. He  was  grateful  for  the  tact 
which  permitted  him  to  continue  un- 
hindered a  life  crystallized  into  cher- 
ished habits  for  years  before  he  knew 
her,  and  in  return  urged  upon  her 
a  like  liberty  of  taste  and  found  a  con- 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  ? 

stant  pleasure  in  a  careful   and  gallant 
consideration  of  her  wishes. 

She  never  tired  but  always  charmed 
him.  His  eyes  rested  lovingly  on  her 
now.  She  was  dressed  in  a  loose  white 
gown,  with  dark  fur  a.  '-hroat  and  hem, 
an  ancient  girdle  confining  its  heavy 
folds.  She  sat  a  little  turned  from  the 
table,  her  head  resting  languidly  against 
the  high,  carved  back  of  the  chair,  her 
small  feet  crossed  upon  a  foot-stool, 
her  dress  falling  from  her  slight  waist 
over  her  knee  and  amply  to  the  floor  in 
folds  which  defined  and  suggested  the 
slender  roundness  of  her  tall  figure. 
She  had  eaten  little  and  rapidly,  her 
hands  moving  with  a  dainty  and  vigor- 
ous precision,  and  then  she  had  assumed 
this  attitude  of  relaxation.  Her  eyes 
became  absent  and  absorbed  ;  they  were 
dark,  deep-set  under  their  straight 
brows,  dreamy  now,  with  their  habitual 
look  of  brooding  abstraction,  but  they 
could  be  keen,  observing,  sometimes 


8  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

even  sarcastic.  Her  hair  grew  low  in  a 
lovely  untormented  curve,  parted  simply 
and  drawn  back  into  a  knot  at  the 
neck  in  the  rapid  toilet  of  the  morning. 
Her  face  was  small  and  pale,  her  fea- 
tures firmly  cut  and  delicate.  The  ex- 
pression of  her  mouth  in  repose  was  sad 
sometimes  even  to  sternness,  but  her 
eyes  rarely  lost  their  mysterious  look  of 
vague  abstraction.  She  gave  an  im- 
pression of  a  power  not  quite  conscious 
of  itself,  of  an  unfocused  image  in  a 
lense.  Her  voice  alone,  deep  and  slow, 
of  an  individual  and  haunting  quality, 
seemed  to  express  if  it  failed  to  define 
her.  Her  enemies  called  her  cruel. 
Those  who  loved  her  found  her  cold. 
She  was  discontented  enough  this  morn- 
ing. The  ball  had  not  amused  her — 
nothing  had,  for  so  long  a  time  that  she 
was  afraid  of  confessing  it  even  to  herself. 
"Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you 
to-day?"  asked  her  husband,  rising  and 
coming  towards  her. 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  Q 

"No,  nothing,"  she  replied,  "except 
perhaps  you  might  ask  some  men  for 
the  opera  to  night." 

"Certainly,  my  dear.  How  many  do 
you  want?" 

"Two,  I  think.  I  do  not  care  much 
who.  The  music  will  rest  me.  I  shall 
ask  some  woman."  She  stopped  a  mo- 
ment and  then  looking  up  quickly  into 
her  husband's  face,  "You  won't  go 
yourself?"  she  asked. 

"You  really  wish  it?"  he  said  reluct- 
antly, thinking  of  his  club  and  his 
whist. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  replied  quickly,  recog- 
nizing the  significance  of  his  tone. 
"Certainly  not,  my  dear.  It  is  Faust 
again.  You  have  heard  it  so  often!" 

There  was  a  little  pause.  Many  such 
conversations  had  passed  without  com- 
ment. This  morning  she  rose,  and 
taking  his  hand  with  a  pretty  gesture  of 
affection,  looked  up  into  her  husband's 
face. 


IO  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

"  I  am  sorry — do  you  know,  dear,  you 
leave  me  much  to  myself?" 

He  raised  her  hand  gallantly  to  his 
lips.  "Why  not?"  he  replied.  "What 
I  see  I  love.  What  I  don't  see  I  can 
trust." 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment  in 
silence.  "You  are  far  too  good  to  me," 
she  said. 

"No,  my  dear.  You  are  the  most 
reasonable,  as  well  as  the  most  beautiful 
woman  of  my  acquaintance." 

"Will  you  drive  this  afternoon?"  she 
continued,  smiling,  her  clear  gaze  still 
fixed  upon  his  face. 

"With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  he  re- 
plied,— "but  no!  I  must  beg  to  be  ex- 
cused. There  is  a  sale  of  old  prints  at 
Bangs  to-day.  I  may  find  the  Moliere 
I  have  wanted  so  long.  To-morrow, 
my  love,  I  shall  be  at  your  service." 

"Of  course,"  she  said,  "Don't  think 
of  it  then."  Her  hand  had  been  resting 
upon  his  shoulder  as  she  had  made  her 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  II 

last  request,  she  dropped  it  now,  but  with 
no  expression  of  annoyance  and  watched 
him  as  he  gathered  up  his  papers  and 
left  the  room.  Then  her  face  fell  and 
she  sighed — a  sigh  which  was  not  quite 
all  disappointment,  not  quite  all  relief; 
— she  took  up  her  own  letters,  and  sink- 
ing in  a  low  chair  by  the  fire  began  to 
read  them. 

Some  with  foreign  stamps  she  laid 
aside  with  a  slight  smile,  raised  her  eye- 
brows over  the  number  of  invitations, 
and  stopped  short,  to  examine  carefully 
an  unfamiliar  hand-writing  on  another, 
the  last  of  the  pile,  which  she  finally 
opened  and  began  to  read  : 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  RIVINGTON: 

Unless  I  am  quite  mistaken,  I  saw  you 
last  night  at  the  Opera.  If  you  will  permit 
me,  I  should  like  above  all  things  to  come 
and  see  you.  It  is  more  than  a  dozen  years 
since  we  met,  and  I  seem  to  myself  very 
bold  in  making  this  request,  but  in  so  doing 
I  shield  myself  behind  an  acquaintance  dat- 
ing almost  from  our  childhood. 


12  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

Most  of  the  years  since  then  have  been 
spent  away  from  home,  and  I  find,  quite 
naturally  perhaps,  that  I  am  a  stranger  in 
my  native  land.  If  you  knew  Bow  much 
pleasure  this  glimpse  of  you  has  given  me, 
you  would  forgive  me  that  I  thus  tempt  fate 
in  asking  if  you  will  receive  me. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

PHILIP  AYTOUN. 

The  brilliant  smile  with  which  Mrs. 
Rivington  read  this  short  letter — a  smile 
natural  and  childish  which  illumined 
her  face — had  stolen  into  her  eyes  by 
the  time  she  had  re-read  it  and  folded 
it  back  into  its  envelope.  She  rose 
with  a  quick  movement  from  the 
chair,  dropping  her  other  letters  un- 
heedingly  on  the  floor,  and  with  one 
foot  on  the  fender,  her  small  hands 
held  to  the  blaze,  looked  out  with 
shining  eyes  upon  the  cloudy  sky, 
forgetting  the  present  moment  in  the 
retrospect  which  the  letter  brought 
before  her. 

"Philip  Aytoun,"  she  murmured  to 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  13 

herself,  "in  this  country!  It  will  be 
charming  to  see  him  again.  I  wonder 
what  he  will  be  like."  Her  mind  re- 
possessed its  memories  rapidly.  They 
returned  to  her  now  clear  and  distinct, 
and  the  friend  of  her  childhood  ap- 
peared before  her  mental  vision  with 
his  eager  boyish  face  and  the  strange 
beauty  which  had  been  woven  into  her 
early  dreams. 

*'  He  will  be  changed,  of  course,"  she 
reflected,  "but  I  hope  not  spoiled. 
What  a  sensitive,  shy  creature  he  was ! 
full  of  promise,  but  no  one  could  have 
predicted  he  would  go  so  far ! " 

"Philip  Aytoun,"  she  repeated  the 
name  again,  dwelling  upon  it  with  a 
thrill  of  pleasure,  made  up  partly  of 
wonder  that  the  name  of  her  boyish 
friend  should  now  be  that  of  a  famous 
painter,  and  partly  of  pride,  that  he  had 
not  forgotten  her. 

A  little  later  during  the  hour,  which 
according  to  her  custom  she  usually 


14  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

spent  at  her  desk,  she  had  replied  to  the 
letter — 

"Come  to  see  me  Sunday,"  she  had 
written  first,  "when  I  am  always  at 
home."  Then  she  had  written  another 
note  appointing  an  hour  when  he  might 
see  her  alone.  "He  will  not  like  to 
meet  others  here,"  she  reflected.  "It 
might  spoil  a  pretty  moment." 

During  her  drive  in  the  afternoon  her 
thoughts  again  reverted  to  the  letter. 
She  recalled  broken  fragments  of  sen- 
tences, and  tones  of  his  voice.  One  lit- 
tle scene  she  remembered  distinctly — 
three  young  lads  walking  among  the 
autumn  leaves  which  had  fallen  by  the 
road-side,  and  he,  the  hero  of  her  child- 
ish fancy,  turning  away  his  head,  and 
refusing  to  recognize  her,  as  she  drove 
by  in  her  phaeton.  Beautiful,  sought 
after,  admired,  hated  and  discussed  as 
she  was  by  the  world,  whose  ways  she 
had  learned  to  know  so  well,  Mrs.  Riving- 
ton  remembered  with  a  little  thrill  the 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  I  5 

moment  of  bitterness  and  chagrin  she 
felt  that  day,  the  slight  to  her  child's 
pride.  The  rustle  of  the  leaves,  the  boy's 
averted  face  came  back  to  her  with 
sense  of  vivid  reality.  She  remembered, 
too,  the  tardy  and  reluctant  explanation 
which  followed,  how  the  others  had  ral- 
lied him  on  his  fancy  for  her  and 
challenged  him  to  pass  her  by  un- 
noticed, and  how  this  little  shock  to 
a  fancy  which  with  her  was  fleeting  and 
light  as  the  thistle-down  of  the  fields, 
was  followed  by  other  childish  quarrels 
and  misunderstandings,  and  finally  for- 
gotten in  other  caprices  of  her  girlhood. 
Yet  his  individuality  among  all  the  stu- 
dents of  the  academy  which  made  the 
life  of  the  quiet  village  in  which  she 
spent  her  youth  stood  out  with  great 
distinctness, — his  sensitiveness,  his  in- 
nate refinement,  his  untamable  shyness 
and  self-consciousness.  Thus  recalling 
him,  her  thoughts  were  caught  again  by 
an  insistent  detail  of  her  present  life, 


1 6  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

and  the  letter  and  its  author  were  for 
the  time  dismissed. 

Helen  Rivington  was  beautiful,  intel- 
ligent ;  but  she  was  also  indolent,  lonely, 
and  as  a  natural  consequence  unhappy. 
This  she  did  not  confess  to  herself, 
blindfolded  as  was  her  mental  vision  by 
the  luxury  of  her  material  surroundings. 
Her  outer  life  was  full  of  movement 
variety  and  the  sound  of  cymbals.  She 
knew  the  odor  of  incense,  and  her  path 
was  strewn  with  flowers,  but  she  trod  it  in 
a  solitude  of  soul,  which  deserved  a  pity 
it  never  received.  Her  mind  was  rare, 
and  her  soul  a  garden;  but  she  was 
romantic,  given  over  to  reveries  and  the 
idleness  of  dreams.  For  years  she  had 
lived  a  life  of  outward  gayety,  of  inner 
loneliness,  productive  of  neither  interest 
or  joy,  but  this  prolonged  inactivity  had 
become  retributive,  and  endurance  was 
merging  into  pain.  Like  a  ship  whose 
engines  were  asleep,  she  had  floated  with 
no  sign  of  struggle;  but  now  the  stir- 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  IJ 

rings  of  a  new  and  insistent  vitality  dis- 
turbed her  long  repose.  Her  nature  had 
never  expressed  itself.  This,  under  the 
existing  circumstances,  was  as  strange 
and  anomalous  as  a  truth  is  apt  to  be. 
The  recognition  of  this  fact  she  had 
long  held  in  banishment.  In  revenge 
it  now  monopolized  her  horizon.  She 
became  preoccupied  with  herself,  and 
forgot  to  look  without.  She  was  far  too 
intelligent  to  be  mildly  bored,  which 
condition,  optimistically  defined  as  con- 
tent, represents  that  measure  of  happi- 
ness which  resignation  teaches  hope. 

Her  girlhood  had  been  passed  in  the 
country  near  New  York,  where  she  had 
been  carefully  taught  by  a  succession 
of  governesses  whose  ministrations 
were  succeeded  by  private  instructions 
from  tutors  of  the  neighboring  academy. 
Her  clear  and  vigorous  mind  responded 
with  enthusiasm  to  the  intellectual  train- 
ing she  received,  and  the  continuous  life 
in  the  pure  country  air  furnished  her 


1 8  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

with  an  equally  advantageous  physical 
surrounding. 

At  nineteen  her  face  suggested  to 
the  uncomplex  mind  of  her  many  and 
abject  adorers  rhymes  of  flowers  and 
bowers,  and  to  the  reflective  a  won- 
dering query  as  to  the  origin  of  an 
alluring  exotic  personality  which  defied 
them  to  forget  her.  There  are  some 
characters  which  can  never  be  reduced 
to  an  equation,  some  natures  which  bear 
only  the  suggested  explanation  of  a 
metaphor.  Helen's  was  one  of  these. 
Her  eyes  dreamed  of  mirages,  but  her 
lips  were  prophetic  of  martyrdoms.  If 
her  soul  had  matched  the  pure  line  of 
her  brow,  she  would  not  have  needed 
the  discipline  of  this  world.  She  was 
slight  as  a  girl,  and  her  weight  had 
never  varied.  Nature  for  once  having 
made  a  perfect  work  had  apparently 
decided  to  leave  it  unmolested,  and  had 
begged  indulgence  of  the  destroyer 
Time. 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  IQ 

At  eighteen  vagrant  fancy  had  led 
Helen  to  an  oblique  place,  where  she 
experienced  a  slight  fall  and  a  consider- 
able shock.  She  decided  that  love  was 
over,  when  she  had  not  learned  to  spell 
the  name. 

At  this  juncture,  her  father's  fortune, 
the  result  of  many  years  of  audacious 
dealings  in  Wall  Street,  suddenly  rolled 
away  like  a  mist,  and  her  father  himself 
died  a  week  after  in  the  physical  col- 
lapse which  followed  his  failure.  From 
him  she  had  inherited  a  pliable  and 
vigorous  intelligence  and  a  temperament 
whose  influence  upon  others  was  elec- 
tric, whose  future  was  unprophesiable. 
From  her  mother  she  had  inherited  an 
ineradicable  Puritanism,  unsuspected 
and  as  yet  held  in  solution  in  a  nature 
which  no  test  of  Fate  had  ever  analyzed. 
A  stern  intellectuality  had  indeed 
widened  the  mental  horizon  of  the  ori- 
ginal Puritan,  but  had  not  restricted 
her  mother's  capacity  for  suffering, 


2O  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

which  was  indeed  a  talent  only  un- 
developed by  the  adverse  conditions 
which  extreme  prosperity  had  imposed 
upon  it.  Her  influence  over  her  only 
child  was  as  uncomprehending  as  it  was 
strenuous  and  affectionate;  loving  Helen 
devotedly,  she  succeeded  in  making  her 
thoroughly  unhappy.  Obedient  at  first 
to  the  exacting  training  which  her 
mother's  ambition  imposed  upon  her, 
Helen  became  moody,  inclined  to  soli- 
tude and  secrecy,  and  finally  after  some 
years  of  painful  friction  took  possession 
of  her  own  developed  and  original  na- 
ture, which  eluded  the  influence  of  her 
mother's  character,  quite  as  much  as  it 
differed  from  it.  But  the  loneliness 
and  pain  incident  upon  so  seriously 
alien  an  environment  had  tinged  her 
mind  with  melancholy  and  her  bitter 
experience  of  the  false  idol  of  her  youth, 
as  interpreted  by  the  morbid  romanticism 
of  a  mind  quite  without  perspective  and 
wholly  dedicated  to  introspection,  led 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  21 

her  to  abandon  the  idea  of  living  a  life 
guided  by  her  own  preference.  She  ac- 
cepted an  attitude  of  resignation  and 
abandoned  hope,  the  prerogative  of  her 
years. 

At  twenty  she  still  retained  the  im- 
pression ,  that  she  could  never  love 
again,  and  when  bitter  grief  at  the  death 
of  her  father  crushed  her  and  misfor- 
tune faced  her,  she  married  Alexander 
Rivington,  not  unwillingly,  but  with  a 
resignation  which  bordered  on  content. 

He  did  not  ask  her  love,  and  she  con- 
ceived herself  amply  justified  in  the 
darkness  of  her  young  despair  in  her 
acceptance  of  a  life  whose  possibilities 
inspired  respect,  at  the  hands  of  a  man 
whose  personality  commanded  admira- 
tion if  not  affection;  more  than  that  he 
had  been  her  father's  life-long  friend. 
She  felt  that  he  would  have  approved. 

At  fifty  Alexander  Rivington  might 
have  inspired  sentiment  if  he  had  not 
himself  been  content  with  admiration. 


22  A   SAWDUST   DOLL. 

The  unbroken  prosperity  of  his  life  had 
crystallized  the  springs  of  feeling;  thus 
he  had  been  influenced  by  the  condi- 
tions of  his  birth  and  period,  and  had 
become  representative  rather  than  indi- 
vidual. He  was  conservative,  formal 
and  intensely  proud;  an  autocrat  whose 
selfishness  wore  the  mask  of  courtesy. 
Coming  early  into  the  possession  of  a 
very  large  fortune,  he  had  put  his  leisure 
to  excellent  use,  and  had  evinced  dur- 
ing twenty-five  years  no  inclination  to 
give  up  his  liberty.  His  fortune  had 
not  deprived  him  of  ambition,  which 
was  early  satisfied  by  an  honorable  and 
in  some  respects  a  brilliant  record  in  the 
war  of  the  Rebellion.  His  excellent 
birth  and  very  keen  mind  had  furnished 
him  with  an  inherited  gallantry  of  man- 
ner and  many  cultivated  tastes.  His 
house  was  filled  with  the  collections  of 
years  of  travel,  and  his  mind  with  recol- 
lections of  the  distinguished  men  who 
had  been  his  friends  and  companions. 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  23 

His  tall  figure  with  his  gray  hair,  ruddy 
skin  and  keen  dark  eyes  was  a  familiar 
sight  upon  the  avenue,  and  he  was  still 
quoted  as  the  most  representative  type 
of  the  manners  which  distinguished  old 
New  York. 

But  for  many  years  his  life  had  fallen 
into  narrow  lines.  He  was  oftener  at 
his  club  in  his  favorite  corner  among 
his  friends,  than  at  the  Opera.  With 
women  his  manner  was  gay,  compli- 
mentary, and  a  little  fantastic.  His 
memory  was  faultless,  his  experiences 
not  a  few.  He  still  dined  out  very  fre- 
quently, and  his  own  dinners  were 
famous  for  their  excellent  wines,  their 
carefully  selected  company,  and  their 
gayety,  for  which  he  always  set  the 
pace.  His  intimates  were  few,  and  were 
among  the  men  whom  he  had  known 
from  boyhood.  His  wife's  father,  James 
Lawrence,  was  one  of  these,  the  best 
loved,  perhaps  the  nearest  friend. 
They  had  been  at  college  together,  and 


24  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

were  nearly  connected  by  the  innumer- 
able ties  and  recollections  of  lives  passed 
almost  side  by  side  during  a  period  of 
more  than  thirty  years.  When  ruin  and 
death  fell  suddenly  upon  Helen's  father, 
General  Rivington  was  the  one  who  was 
appealed  to  for  help  and  advice  in  the 
double  and  irremediable  disaster,  and  in 
a  moment  of  sympathy  for  the  beautiful 
girl  he  had  known  from  childhood,  and 
whom  he  found  in  the  first  despair  over 
the  death  of  her  father  and  face  to  face 
with  misfortune,  he  lost  the  composure 
he  had  prized  so  long  and  offered  her 
gallantly  the  remainder  of  his  life,  his 
love,  and  his  protection.  When  after  a 
day  or  two  of  reflection,  Helen  shyly 
and  gratefully  accepted  him,  he  realized 
that  his  joy  in  this  new  possession  was 
by  no  means  unselfish,  and  accepted 
with  delight  the  change  in  his  life, 
which  he  had  long  believed  to  be  im- 
possible. 

The  astonishment  with  which  the  an- 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  25 

nouncement  of  his  marriage  was  received 
at  his  club  was  soon  changed  to  envy 
when  Helen  had  once  been  seen,  and 
had  taken  the  place  which  her  husband's 
position  gave  to  her  youth  and  beauty, 
and  which  she  filled  with  a  simple  dignity 
which  was  a  continual  pleasure  to  him. 
Thus  with  no  transition  time  between 
lessons  and  marriage,  Helen  found  her- 
self one  of  a  very  powerful  and  luxury- 
loving  society,  whose  prizes  and  prerog- 
atives were  laid  within  her  hands.  She 
enjoyed  it  all  for  a  time,  the  ease,  the 
continual  variety  which  was  at  first 
amusement,  and  her  own  unquestioned 
place ;  but  the  novelty  of  a  gift  is  less 
enduring  than  the  pride  of  acquisition, 
and  the  well-being  which  is  as  easily 
gained  as  was  hers,  becomes  too  soon  an 
unnoticed  condition.  It  was  a  long 
time,  however,  before  her  unhappiness 
became  articulate.  Her  disposition  was 
eminently  amiable,  she  was  submissive 
of  circumstances  with  a  resignation  be- 


26  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

yond  her  years.  Her  intelligence  ap- 
prehended the  profound  sadness  of  life, 
and  her  early  experience  taught  her  the 
futility  of  struggle  and  the  folly  of  the 
attempt  to  dictate  Fate.  But  if  her 
temperament  was  obedient,  her  mind 
was  not.  Intellectual  curiosity  had  led 
her  in  many  wandering  ways,  and 
although  her  memories  were  astonish- 
ingly few,  and  she  had  learned  but  little 
of  life,  she  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  only  moments  which  are  worth 
remembering  are  those  in  which  we 
have  forgotten  ourselves.  But  with  a 
fastidious  mind,  and  an  unpromising 
and  conventional  environment,  the  pos- 
sibility of  self-forgetfulness  seemed  to 
her  daily  as  elusive  as  it  was  alluring. 
Her  experience  with  the  type  of  unen- 
lightened heathen,  who  do  not  know 
how  to  spell  sentiment  and  who  cry  out 
loudly  for  food,  had  not  in  any  way  en- 
couraged her.  It  had  brought  her  in- 
variable disappointment  and  forced  her 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  27 

to  be  cruel.  She  did  not  like  the  use  of 
the  knife,  nor  fancy  herself  in  the  de- 
fensive attitude. 

Thus  life  had  passed  her  by.  At 
thirty  she  was  young  in  living,  and  un- 
touched by  time.  Her  beauty  was  still 
in  its  unmarred  perfection — a  promise 
of  joy — evocative  of  dreams. 


Chapter  II. 

|RS.  Rivington's  drawing-room  was 
charming,  and  very  character- 
istic of  her.  It  was  not  over-crowded 
with  furniture,  but  was  warm  and  com- 
forting and  shadowy.  Near  the  fire- 
place was  a  low  sofa  with  a  high  carved 
back,  a  table  with  a  lamp  stood  near  at 
hand,  in  a  corner  was  a  low  divan  heaped 
with  pillows  and  protected  by  a  screen. 
Near  by  was  a  table  covered  with  yel- 
low French  books,  and  the  month's 
magazines.  Over  other  tables  were 
scattered  an  infinite  variety  of  photo- 
graphs, small  and  great,  and  above  the 
mantel  was  a  very  remarkable  collection 
of  blue  china.  A  protrait  of  Mrs.  Riv- 
ington  by  Carolus  Duran  hung  against 
a  tapestry.  On  the  day  when  Aytoun 
was  expected  the  room  was  full  of  flow- 
28 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  2Q 

ers,  which  had  just  come  in  from  the 
country.  It  was  a  warm  day  in  early 
spring,  and,  the  windows  being  open,  a 
fragrant  little  breeze  blew  in  through  the 
azalea  blooms  and  moved  the  curtains. 
Mrs.  Rivington  had  just  returned  from 
her  drive  and  was  seated,  a  little  fatigued 
with  the  first  warmth  of  the  spring  day, 
on  a  sofa  with  her  back  to  the  light, 
when  Aytoun  was  announced. 

She  half  rose  from  her  seat  to  give 
him  a  warmer  greeting  than  was  her 
wont.  He  had  quite  altered;  not  only 
in  all  that  the  development  from  boy  to 
man  would  necessitate,  but  he  had  also 
changed  in  type.  Helen  would  not 
have  recognized  her  childhood's  friend 
in  the  tall  and  strikingly  original  figure 
she  saw  before  her.  The  boy's  smooth 
face  she  remembered  with  its  closely 
cropped  hair,  its  unmarked  features,  and 
its  mobile  mouth,  had  developed  into 
an  admirable  and  noble  type  of  beauty, 
poetic  and  virile.  The  reddish  brown 


30  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

hair  was  cut  close  on  the  neck,  but 
waved  thickly  over  his  forehead.  A 
small  mustache  shaded  a  mouth  full 
but  firmly  curved.  A  vertical  line 
between  the  straight  brows  showed  the 
habit  of  concentration,  and  in  the  slight 
hollowness  of  the  cheeks  she  saw  the 
unsparing  use  of  the  mental  qualities. 
The  eyes  alone,  of  a  luminous  blue, 
remained  as  Helen  remembered  them, 
clear  and  young  with  an  expression  of 
singular  freshness  and  charm.  The 
rounded  ideality  of  the  chin  and  throat 
gave  an  almost  feminine  grace  to  the 
head. 

He  entered  the  room  with  a  slight  air 
of  embarrassment,  charming  in  its  sim- 
plicity. The  sensitiveness  of  old  was 
recalled  to  Helen  by  his  voice,  which 
had  many  notes  in  it  musical  and 
unconventional.  His  English  was  a 
little  stilted  as  if  from  disuse.  There  is 
a  distinction  which  comes  from  within, 
another  from  without.  Aytoun's  was 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  3! 

the  first.  As  it  happened,  he  was  per- 
fectly dressed,  but  Mrs.  Rivington  forgot 
to  notice  it.  She  motioned  him  to  a 
chair  beside  her. 

"  How  charming  of  you  to  have  writ- 
ten me!" 

"  More  charming  of  you  to  have  given 
me  so  prompt  a  pardon  for  my  indiscre- 
tion— I  hardly  knew —  " 

She  interrupted  him — "  Not  know 
what  a  real  pleasure  it  is  to  see  you 
again  after  all  these  years?  " 

"  I  am  only  too  glad  to  be  reassured," 
he  answered. 

She  looked  intently  at  him,  searching 
for  her  recollection  of  him,  verifying 
the  survivals,  noting  the  changes.  She 
found  herself  genuinely  interested  and 
amused  ;  her  eyes  as  she  looked  at  him 
were  bright  with  pleasure. 

"  How  could  you  doubt  it?  "  she  asked 
him.  "Did  you  think  I  should  be 
changed?" 

He  faltered  a  moment. 


32  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

"  I  thought  (leaning  forward  in  his 
chair),  that  I  might — find  you — 
spoiled." 

"Ah!  I  hope  not!  but  I  must  have 
changed." 

"  Yes,  you  have  changed,  but  not  as  I 
feared.  You  are  quite  fresh,  quite 
natural.  You  are,"  pausing,  "even 
more  than  I  could  have  expected." 

She  scanned  him  attentively  from 
under  her  white  lids,  and  found  his  hes- 
itating words  exquisitely  flattering. 

"I,"  she  replied,  "I  am  nothing.  Tell 
me  about  yourself.  It  is  worth  while, 
your  life.  You  have  worked  so  hard, 
done  so  much.  Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  Not  now,"  he  said,  "  some  day  you 
shall  know  all  you  like  about  me.  But 
now  tell  me,  do  you  remember  the  day 
we  went  to  the  old  pond,  near  the  wood, 
to  skate?" 

"Oh,  yes," she  replied,  laughing;  "of 
course  I  do." 

"Do  you  remember  your  setting  your 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  33 

foot  in  the  print  of  mine  in  the  snow, 
and  laughing  at  the  difference  in  size? 
Do  you  remember  the  day  I  drew  you 
home  on  your  sled?  Do  you  remember 
the  little  cipher  letter  you  sent  me?" 
He  paused  a  moment.  "  No,  I  see  you 
don't.  Never  mind,  I  have  it  yet,  and 
your  photograph  with  the  inscription, 
'always  your  friend,  Helen.'  " 

"  And  do  you  remember  the  day  you 
refused  to  recognize  me?"  she  asked 
him,  laughingly.  "  No;  that  you  have 
forgotten,  but  I  have  not.  It  hurts  yet. 
How  dared  you?" 

"  That  was  just  the  trouble,"  he  re- 
plied; "I  did  not  dare.  You  fright- 
ened me.  You  do  now.  How  mys- 
terious you  are.  How  beautiful."  The 
last  word  dropped  from  his  lips  almost 
inaudibly,  and  his  eyes  narrowed  imper- 
ceptibly with  the  artist's  instinct  as  he 
watched  her,  sitting  there  in  the  half 
light,  bending  her  head  and  listening 
to  him. 


34  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

"  How  long  ago  it  is!  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  We  will  keep  it  a  secret,  will  we  not? 
It  is  quite  fifteen  years — did  you  know 
it — since  I  first  knew  you?  " 

His  embarrassment  had  quite  disap- 
peared. He  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
himself  in  the  charm  of  her  presence. 

"Yes,  fifteen,  and  I  said  you  had 
changed.  I  was  wrong.  Now  that  I 
see  you  and  hear  you  speak,  you  seem 
just  the  same.  Your  expression;  yes, 
that  alone  has  changed.  Something 
has  come  into  your  face,  and  something 
has  gone.  I  can't  quite  express  it." 

"You,"  she  exclaimed,  "have  chang- 
ed. I  am  preserved  perhaps,  but  you 
have  developed.  I  have  done  nothing; 
you  have  earned  the  change  I  see  in 
you.  It  is  not  for  the  worse,  believe 
me." 

Aytoun  flushed  a  little  at  this,  and 
his  self-consciousness  returned.  There 
was  a  little  irremediable  pause.  He  rose 
to  go. 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  35 

"  May  I  come  again?  "  he  asked. 

"If  you  only  will."  She  watched  him 
as  he  rose.  At  the  door  he  turned  im- 
pulsively. 

"Do  let  me  come,"  he  said;  "I  feel 
like  a  boy  again.  How  good  it  is  to 
see  you!" 


Chapter  III. 
I 

JEVERAL  days  slipped  by  before 
Mrs.  Rivington  realized  that 
Aytoun  had  made  no  sign,  no  effort  to 
see  her  again.  But  nearly  a  fortnight 
passed  before  the  unconfessed  pique, 
which  had  been  sharpening  the  edge  of 
her  curiosity,  drove  her  to  visit  the  col- 
lection of  his  pictures  then  on  view  at 
an  uptown  gallery. 

The  spring  had  suddenly  declared 
itself,  and  hung  its  pennons  triumph- 
antly from  the  branches  in  Madison 
Square.  Above  them  rose  the  creamy 
tower  of  the  garden.  Life,  multiform, 
electric,  was  rolling  by  in  the  Avenue, 
but  the  hurry  and  stress  of  the  laboring 
city  seemed  somehow  less  strenuous. 
The  stream  of  humanity  which  surges 
and  divides  at  the  corner  of  Twenty- 
36 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  37 

third  street  was  dotted  with  flowers. 
The  women  carried  them  in  their  hands, 
the  men  in  their  coats.  If  one  listened 
carefully,  one  could  hear  above  the  rat- 
tle of  the  cars  and  carriages  the  twitter 
of  the  birds  in  the  park.  A  faint  fra- 
grance floated  in  the  air.  Spring  had 
invaded  the  town. 

As  Helen  drove  by  in  her  carriage 
she  was  conscious  of  a  distinct  pleasure 
in  the  air,  the  motion.  She  was  glad 
she  was  alive.  A  delicate  pink  flush 
stained  her  cheek,  her  hair  under  the 
large  hat  she  wore  blew  back  from  her 
brow,  her  ideas  floated  too.  She  was 
glad  to  feel  young,  with  a  gladness 
which  the  knowledge  of  her  thirty  years 
rather  emphasized  than  diminished.  She 
remembered  when  she  had  not  appre- 
ciated her  youth,  and  atoned  for  that 
scant  courtesy  with  an  ample  gratitude 
for  its  gracious  lingering.  As  she  drove 
up  the  avenue  she  abandoned  herself  to 
the  happiness  which  floated  in  the  mild 


38  A   SAWDUST   DOLL. 

atmosphere,  the  consciousness  of*  com- 
ing summer,  and  the  content  of  her  own 
beauty,  latent  and  comforting,  which 
she  neither  diminished  by  over-con- 
sciousness, nor  cheapened  by  neglect. 

The  curiosity  which  took  her  to  see 
Aytoun's  pictures  was  only  sharpened 
by  his  apparent  forgetfulness  of  her,  not 
embittered.  She  was  in  fact  rather 
pleased  than  otherwise.  "He  is  not 
changed,"  she  mused.  "This  is  the 
same  boy  who  refused  to  recognize  me 
that  autumn  day  and  who  will  not  bear 
the  touch  of  the  whip.  No  driving  here, 
no  tyrannies — but  he  has  not  forgotten 
me." 

The  carriage  stopped  at  the  door  of 
the  gallery  and  Helen  went  up  its  mar- 
ble steps.  Within  it  was  cool  and 
silent.  She  went  immediately  to  the 
room  which  contained  the  collection  of 
Aytoun's  pictures.  It  was  not  a  regular 
exhibition  day,  but  there  were  a  num- 
ber of  people  there,  examining  them 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  39 

carefully.  A  group  of  eager  girls,  art- 
students  evidently  by  their  dress,  were 
standing  before  one  of  his  portraits,  that 
of  a  girl,  pointing  out  to  each  other 
with  a  mixture  of  envy  and  admiration 
the  looseness  but  brilliancy  of  the  tech- 
nique. The  face  was  not  beautiful,  but 
the  cool  gaze  of  the  gray  eyes,  the  hair 
loosely  combed  back,  the  suggestion  of 
ancient  costume  in  the  dress,  the  alert 
intellectual  interest  in  the  face,  riveted 
the  attention  with  a  daring  sarcastic 
command,  most  characteristic  of  the 
painter.  Before  another,  a  landscape 
with  a  predominant  sky,  full  of  moving 
clouds  and  some  wind-swept  hills,  a 
couple  of  men  were  standing.  One  of 
them,  a  bearded  man  with  deeply- 
marked  features,  and  a  fatigued  look 
about  the  eyes,  was  talking  of  the  pic- 
ture in  the  artist  vernacular.  Helen 
caught  a  few  words  as  she  passed  them. 
A  pretty  woman,  in  gray,  with  violets 
in  her  bonnet,  and  very  red  lips,  was 


4O  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

nervously  poking  the  tip  of  a  smart  shoe 
with  her  parasol,  her  eyes  cast  down; 
the  man  beside  her  was  talking  earn- 
estly to  her  with  a  triumphant  smile. 
He  turned  as  Helen  passed  them,  and 
she  recognized  a  man  who  had  sat  next 
to  her  at  dinner  the  night  before,  and 
whose  flowers  had  filled  her  rooms  all 
winter.  His  face  fell,  and  he  instantly 
stopped  talking.  The  woman  looked 
up  and  stared  at  Helen,  who  crossed 
immediately  to  the  other  side  of  the 
gallery.  Her  lip  curled  a  little. 

The  beauty  of  the  pictures  began  to 
absorb  her  mind,  which  possessed  a  far 
keener  and  more  correct  instinct  for 
what  was  good  in  art  than  she  had  ever 
given  herself  credit  for.  The  presence 
of  the  pictures  penetrated  and  stimu- 
lated her  mind,  and  she  began  to  feel  a 
keen  envy  for  the  talent  and  the  will 
which  had  so  triumphantly  expressed 
themselves. 

She  turned  and  walked  to  the  door 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  4! 

to  buy  a  catalogue,  when  she  saw  Aytoun 
standing  at  the  entrance  of  the  gallery 
with  some  men  and  talking  earnestly. 
Helen  was  impressed  by  the  suggestion 
of  power  and  exhilaration  in  his  man- 
ner, and  the  pose  of  his  head.  Noting 
the  graceful  movements  of  his  hands, 
she  watched  him  for  a  moment  in  sil- 
ence. He  was  standing  before  one  of 
his  pictures,  evidently  explaining  it. 

"Well  he  may  be  proud !"  she  said  to 
herself.  "I  shall  tell  him  so." 

He  looked  up  quickly  and  caught 
sight  of  her.  Excusing  himself  from 
his  companions,  he  came  towards  her 
gallantly,  hat  in  hand,  bending  low, 
with  a  little  French  exaggeration  of 
manner,  which  became  him  well. 

"  How  good  of  you  to  come  and  see 
my  pictures,"  he  said.  "I  am  infinitely 
honored." 

He  has  learned  other  arts  in  Paris 
than  that  of  painting,  she  observed 
quickly,  while  she  replied  : 


42  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

"Why  good?  grateful,  perhaps,"  she 
looked  around  the  room.  "Come,  tell 
me  about  your  pictures.  When  did  you 
do  this  one,  I  have  just  been  looking 
at  ?  Which  do  you  like  best  yourself?" 

"Would  you  really  like  to  know?" 

"Oh,  so  much." 

She  was  interested.  It  was  a  collec- 
tion of  pictures  of  which  youth  might 
be  proud  and  age  content. 

He  began  to  speak  of  them;  simply, 
and  without  affectation.  She  was  charmed 
with  the  careful  explanations  which  he 
gave,  flattered  with  the  compliment  at 
being  addressed  as  an  equal.  He  was 
clear,  direct  and  modest,  revealing  with 
almost  unconscious  significance  the  dis- 
tance she  had  traveled  in  his  art,  with 
a  word  sometimes  disclosing  where  he 
stood  so  far  beyond  her. 

Reason  had  never  taught  Helen  how 
to  listen.  That  knowledge  was  a  cradle 
gift.  "Helen,"  her  mother  had  said  to 
her  one  day  while  she  loitered  over 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  43 

a  page  of  Latin,  "why  don't  you  learn 
your  lessons  ?  Do  you  want  to  be  an 
ignoramus  when  you  grow  up  ? " 
"Mamma!"  she  had  replied,  bravely, 
lifting  her  appealing  brown  eyes,  "I 
have  never  found  the  man,  woman  or 
child  yet,  I  could  not  talk  to,  and  I 
don't  think  I  should  do  any  better,  if  I 
knew  the  whole  of  Julius  Caesar." 

She  had  learned  the  lesson,  notwith- 
standing, and  many  others,  but  none  so 
valuable  as  one  she  never  learned  but 
always  practiced,  that  to  most  men  no 
intellectual  pleasure  equals  the  pure 
delight  of  teaching  a  pretty  woman 
what  they  think  she  ought  to  know. 
Helen  was  receiving  in  very  full  meas- 
ure the  reward  for  her  obedience  to  this 
golden  rule  of  life,  for  in  response  to 
the  encouragement  of  her  manner,  her 
lifted,  sympathetic  eyes,  Aytoun  was  ex- 
pressing, as  he  rarely  had  before,  his 
thoughts,  his  hopes,  his  experiences  in 
the  art  to  which  he  devoted  his  life. 


44  A   SAWDUST   DOLL. 

She  asked  him  when  he  had  left  America, 
and  when  he  had  begun  to  paint. 
There  was  a  long  gap  to  fill  up  between 
the  time  when  still  a  lad  he  had  disap- 
peared from  her  life,  and  the  present. 
He  told  of  the  years  in  Paris,  years  of 
discouragement  while  he  continued  to 
paint  in  the  manner  of  his  masters,  his 
groping  experiments,  and  finally  the 
discovery  of  his  own  individual  manner, 
and  the  astonishingly  quick  reward 
which  followed. 

"No,  it  is  not  easy,"  he  said,  "learn- 
ing the  metier,  and  it  is  harder  still  for 
many  who  have  had  the  perseverance  to 
learn  it  and  learn  it  well,  to  realize  that 
after  all  the  manner  is  nothing.  When 
we  have  advanced  one  step  further  and 
have  found  out  something  important  to 
say,  we  of  the  nineteenth  century  will 
say  it  better  than  it  has  been  said  be- 
fore ;  but  just  now  it  is  very  discourag- 
ing— the  older  men  are  terribly  demodes, 
and  many  of  the  younger  ones  seem  to 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  45 

have  forgotten  that  there  is  a  mltier  to 
learn.  They  would  have  us  believe  that 
individuality  is  the  one  essential,  and 
seek  above  all  things  to  be  eccentric. 
For  this  they  discard  everything,  nature 
first  of  all,  and  paint  women,  trees, 
houses,  beasts,  and  the  sea,  green,  blue, 
and  purple,  as  their  mood  dictates — 
anything  is  legitimate,  so  that  they  may 
be  pronounced  'clever,'  and  that  they 
may  declare  their  picture  has  been  done 
between  eleven  o'clock  and  noon." 

The  art  students  had  disappeared,  the 
pretty  woman  in  the  gray  dress  and  her 
companion  had  long  since  departed,  the 
rooms  were  nearly  empty  and  very  still, 
but  the  daylight  still  lingered  and  Helen 
had  forgotten  it  was  growing  late.  She 
stopped  before  a  picture  of  a  little  sea- 
port, drowned  in  a  brown  and  melan- 
choly mist. 

"What  is  that?"  she  asked. 

"Oh!  a  little  scene  in  the  South." 

"  How  sad!  "   she  exclaimed,    "  how 


46  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

despairing.  What  expression  inanimate 
things  can  have!" 

"  It  was  myself,  I  think." 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  giving  him  the  cat- 
alogue, "show  me  what  you  have  called 
it." 

"  Oh,  nothing.     A  sea-port." 

"  It  is  not  well  named ;  you  should 
call  it  'Spleen.'  Baudelaire  would  have 
painted  thus." 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course,"  he  laughed  de- 
lightedly, "  I  should.  I  shall  call  it  that 
in  the  next  exhibition." 

He  watched  her  as  she  looked  at  the 
pictures  and  noted  the  beautiful  propor- 
tion of  her  slight  figure,  the  length  from 
the  knee  down,  the  slender  waist  and 
hips,  the  flowing  line  from  throat  to 
wrist.  She  was  dressed  in  black,  of  a 
soft  material  which  fell  gracefully  in 
heavy  folds.  She  wore  a  short  cape  of 
prune  velvet  with  some  white  lace  about 
it,  a  large  hat  of  black  shaded  her  eyes 
and  threw  out  the  fine  line  of  her  pro- 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  47 

file,  the  heavy  wave  of  her  dark  hair. 
Aytoun  noticed  all  this,  even  to  the 
slight  gold  chain  with  its  watch  and 
trinkets  which  fastened  at  her  waist  and 
the  jewel  in  the  handle  of  her  parasol. 
She  had  quite  forgotten  herself,  and 
Aytoun  could  see  how  natural  was  the 
proud,  the  almost  insolent  lift,  of  her 
small  head,  and  he  forgave  her  as  his 
eyes  watched  the  sensitive  ripples  of  ex- 
pression about  her  mouth,  a  mouth 
which  was  far  too  womanly  to  be  cruel. 
He  had  ceased  to  look  for  the  girl,  the 
almost  child,  he  had  remembered,  or  to 
listen  for  the  recollected  sound  of  her 
voice.  He  was  pleased,  aroused  and 
even  disturbed  at  this  woman,  whose  life 
had  been  so  different  from  anything  he 
had  experienced  or  seen,  and  yet,  with  a 
beauty  which  satisfied  his  eyes,  and 
stirred  his  laggard  pulses,  both  under- 
stood and  stimulated  his  mind.  "How 
complex  she  is,"  he  thought  to  himself, 
"  I  cannot  understand  her."  He  turned 


48  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

away  his  head,  averted  his  eyes,  and 
listened  to  her  voice. 

"How  versatile  you  are!"  she  was 
saying,  "how  versatile!  Portraits  there, 
landscapes  here,  and  this  picture.  Why, 
you  are  a  musician,  too!  There  is  vibra- 
tion all  through  it,  like  the  continued 
sound  of  a  violin,  and  this,  what  a 
strange  picture!  What  does  it  mean? 
Those  shadowy  trees,  that  strange  sign 
upon  the  pool  which  strikes  upon  the 
dark  as  sound  upon  silence.  It  is  a 
sound!  That  man  in  the  boat  is  listen- 
ing! What  is  it?  Tell  me  quickly!  A 
bell?  No!  it  is  higher,  clearer.  Oh!  a 
bird — a  bird!  in  the  night."  She  turned 
towards  him  excitedly. 

Aytoun  handed  her  the  catalogue. 

"  The  Song  of  the  Nightingale,"  he 
said,  simply  looking  at  her  with  a  quick 
drawn  breath. 

Helen  met  his  glance  a  moment  and 
turned  away,  feeling  her  heart  beat. 

The  artistic  sympathy  is  terribly  dan- 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  49 

gerous,  that  of  the  body  flares  and  wanes 
quickly,  this  takes  fire  at  the  top.  It  is 
a  draft  of  pure  alcohol,  white,  clear,  and 
intoxicating,  and  ignites  the  soul. 

Helen  felt  like  one  dumb,  who  sud- 
denly is  given  voice,  like  one  who  finds 
the  long  sought  arrow  to  a  bow,  but  not 
for  long.  The  moment  was  too  vivid, 
and  her  outer  self  resumed  control. 

She  looked  at  her  watch. 

"It  is  very  late,"  she  exclaimed,  "I 
must  go." 

He  put  her  in  her  carriage  and  she 
thanked  him  gracefully  for  his  kindness 
in  showing  her  his  pictures,  but  her 
courtesy  was  a  little  formal,  and  he  re- 
membered suddenly  how  as  a  girl  he 
had  often  found  her  cold. 


Chapter  IV. 

|YTOUN  watched  Mrs.  Rivington's 
carriage  as  it  turned  the  corner 
of  Fifty-seventh  street  to  drive  down  the 
avenue,  and  then  he  lighted  a  cigarette 
and  took  his  way  leisurely  along  Broad- 
way, following  its  slanting  thorough- 
fare to  the  rooms  he  had  taken  in  the 
middle  of  the  town.  He  had  not  quite 
recovered  from  the  blow  which  the  rush 
and  hurry  of  American  life  had  inflicted 
upon  him,  exile  as  he  had  been  so  long 
from  his  own  country. 

The  dirt  of  the  streets,  the  bewilder- 
ing rush  of  the  cars,  and  the  hurrying 
press  of  vehicles  still  disturbed  his 
nerves,  which  were  sensitive  to  every 
impression.  The  restless  discontent 
upon  the  faces  of  the  people,  the  lack 
of  the  simple  human  happiness,  so  often 
So 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  51 

seen  among  the  laborers  of  the  older 
countries  as  they  go  about  their  work, 
impressed  him  with  a  feeling  of  per- 
plexity and  sadness. 

"A  quoi  bon? "  he  asked  himself  a 
dozen  times  a  day. 

This  afternoon  his  mood  was  happier; 
he  was  proud  of  the  ample  recognition 
which  his  countrymen  had  given  him, 
and  melted  into  a  mild  content  by  the 
persuasive  warmth  of  the  spring  day. 
As  he  walked  along  he  noticed,  with 
pleasure,  the  groups  of  children  playing 
in  front  of  the  shops,  in  the  warmth  of 
the  lingering  daylight.  Two  little  girls 
with  wheat-like  yellow  braids  and  rosy 
German  cheeks  were  dancing  to  the 
music  of  a  one-legged  violinist,  who 
stood  at  the  corner  of  the  street.  Ay- 
toun  dropped  a  coin  into  the  battered 
hat,  which  was  offered  to  him  as  he 
passed  by.  The  man  thanked  him  in  a 
round  French  patois,  which  sounded 
good  in  his  ears. 


52  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

"You  are  from  Concarneau?"  he 
said. 

"Oui,  monsieur,"  answered  the  man 
with  a  broad  smile. 

Aytoun  had  painted  there  one  sum- 
mer with  a  lot  of  men  and  recognized 
the  dialect  of  Brittany. 

It  all  came  back  to  him — his  life  that 
summer  on  the  barren  coast,  its  little 
villages  sunk  in  the  hollows  of  the 
rocks,  the  cliff  walk  by  the  sea,  the 
gigantic  crucifixes  with  their  blackened, 
death-like  figures.  As  he  picked  his 
way  among  the  crowd  of  passers-by  he 
could  almost  smell  the  sea-weed,  and 
his  sight  was  filled  with  visions  of  the 
tall  peasant  women  in  their  old-time 
caps,  and  the  bronzed  Breton  fishermen. 
He  stopped  at  a  corner;  a  cable  car  with 
its  evening  load  of  tired  humanity  on  its 
homeward  way  dashed  by  him  with  an 
ominous  clang.  His  thoughts  returned 
with  a  start  to  New  York  and  Broad- 
way. He  asked  himself  for  the  hun- 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  53 

dredth  time  why  he  had  come-  and 
promised  himself  a  speedy  return;  and 
then  he  called  himself  ungrateful  for 
the  welcome  he  had  received  in  his  own 
country,  and  he  thought  of  the  sale  of 
his  pictures,  and  the  invitations  which 
had  already  begun  to  find  their  way  to 
his  rooms. 

He  had  never  loved  the  excitement 
which  comes  from  association  with 
varying  types  of  people;  his  mind  was 
distracted  and  depressed  rather  than 
stimulated  by  such  contact.  He  was 
quite  free  from  any  restraint  among 
his  confreres,  to  whom  he  was  a  loyal 
friend  and  with  whom  he  spent  hours  of 
enthusiastic  discourse  about  their  com- 
mon art.  It  had  always  been  a  theory 
of  his,  warmly  discussed  and  religiously 
practiced,  to  make  a  life  of  art  rather 
than  an  art  of  life.  The  easy  associa- 
tions of  his  student  life  harmonized 
with  this  intention,  furnishing  a  stimu- 
lating atmosphere  and  distractions 


54  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

easily  assumed  and  as  easily  discarded. 
The  more  exacting  relations  of  the 
world  he  shunned. 

Philip  Aytoun  was  the  son  of  a  New 
England  clergyman.  The  stock  from 
which  he  sprang  was  purely  English, 
the  traditions  and  trainings  of  his  boy- 
hood severe  and  confining. 

He  did  not  remember  his  mother,  but 
the  hours  of  loneliness  which  he  spent 
in  looking  at  her  picture  and  longing 
for  some  affection  warmer  and  more 
caressing  than  it  was  possible  for  his 
stern  father  to  bestow,  were  the  most 
poignant  recollections  of  his  childhood. 
His  father  rarely  spoke  to  him  of  his 
mother,  and  he  did  not  realize  that  it 
was  from  her  that  he  inherited  the 
sensitiveness  and  love  of  beauty,  which, 
in  her  case,  had  not  survived  the  unhap- 
piness  of  repression. 

Aytoun  blamed  this  sensitive  and 
lonely  childhood  for  the  shyness  which 
still  tormented  him  long  after  he  had 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  55 

been  set  free  to  follow  his  own  ambi- 
tions. 

This  natural  shyness  was  further 
increased  by  the  inherent  modesty  of  a 
life  given  up  to  labor,  and  a  constant 
and  humble  comparison  of  himself  with 
the  highest  standards  of  that  art  to 
which  he  was  dedicated.  If  anyone  had 
told  Aytoun  that  his  instincts  were  those 
of  a  transferred  or  translated  Puritanism, 
he  would  have  laughed  him  to  scorn. 
But  it  was  true.  The  vigorous  will  which 
had  so  directly  brought  him  into  the  har- 
bor of  success,  was  born  of  an  invinci- 
ble sense  of  responsibility,  the  direct 
inheritance  of  his  American  blood.  The 
passion  for  beauty  which  from  early 
boyhood  had  sent  him  wandering  among 
the  fields,  a  companion  of  the  birds  and 
streams,  was  a  single  exotic  gift,  alienat- 
ing him  from  his  father  to  whom  dreams 
were  but  idleness,  and  separating  him 
from  his  natural  associates. 

When,  after  a  few  years  of  reluctant 


$6  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

obedience  to  his  father's  rule,  his  death 
released  him,  Philip  went  straight 
to  Paris.  Aytoun  was  not  a  painter 
by  profession,  he  was  a  poet  who 
painted. 

He  was  too  manly  to  take  account  of 
his  beauty,  which,  growing  into  its  per- 
fection with  the  fine  development  of  his 
nature,  revealed  him  to  his  associates. 
He  was  too  bound  by  the  intense  activity 
of  his  will  to  realize  that  the  clairvoyant 
instinct  of  his  poet's  mind  was  an  invin- 
cible weapon  in  that  art  of  life  to  which 
he  paid  so  little  heed.  His  mind  was 
capable  of  but  one  loyalty,  that  was  to 
beauty,  beauty  in  art;  his  untiring  aim 
was  to  express  it.  He  was  accustomed 
to  view  with  a  certain  contemptuous 
pity,  quite  lacking  in  sympathy,  the 
abandonment  to  the  soft  slavery  of 
women  which  he  saw  in  his  friends.  To 
him  the  flesh  alone  spoke  vainly,  leaving 
his  will,  his  spirit,  free.  The  mad 
caprices,  which  his  indifference  and  his 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  57 

beauty  not  seldom  inspired,  had  never 
tempted  him  from  his  allegiance.  Art, — 
friends,  whose  voices  were  but  the  cho- 
rus of  acolytes  to  his  throned  goddess; 
such  had  been  Aytoun's  life  for  many 
unbroken  years.  Sometimes  his  friends 
divining  the  power  he  left  unused, 
would  question  him  jealously  as  to  the 
cause  of  his  indifference. 

"  L'art  et  les  amis,"  he  would  say. 

"  Et  les  femmes?" 

"  Parole  d* honneur,  (a   n'entre  pas" 

This  was  no  affectation  but  the  sim- 
ple truth. 

He  had  come  to  America  for  a  short 
visit  to  exhibit  his  pictures,  and  in 
response  to  a  vague  sense  of  responsi- 
bility to  his  country  too  seldom  heeded. 
He  was  no  more  genially  inclined  than 
ever  towards  making  relations  with  the 
world,  but  he  found  his  usual  independ- 
ence curiously  shaken  by  the  sense  of 
solitude  which  he  experienced  in  his 
native  land.  In  this  mood  he  had  gone 


§8  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

to  the  opera,  scanning  the  faces  of  the 
women  in  the  boxes  with  curiosity  and 
a  certain  unexpected  pride  in  their  dis- 
tinction. 

When  under  the  crowned  brightness  of 
Helen's  brilliant  beauty,  he  recognized 
the  boyish  fancy  of  his  youth,  he  was 
astonished  and  pleased,  and  experienced 
a  very  distinct  sensation.  He  recalled 
the  keen  chagrin  he  had  experienced  at 
her  girl's  indifference  and  her  misunder- 
standing of  him.  He  admitted  the  per- 
sistence with  which  her  memory  had 
haunted  him  during  his  first  years  of 
absence,  and  had  impulsively  written  to 
her. 

On  the  day  he  had  gone  to  see  her, 
he  recognized  with  his  keen  observation 
every  line  of  her  perfected  beauty,  and 
responded  with  all  his  sensitive  nerves 
to  every  expression  of  the  charm  which 
lay  in  her  voice,  her  smile,  her  manner. 
Her  quick  reply  to  his  letter,  her  gra- 
cious, unaffected  welcome,  flattered  him, 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  59 

and  yet — and  yet — although  he  had  asked 
her  consent  he  had  not  returned  to  see 
her.  His  old  shyness  took  possession 
of  him,  and  his  deeply  fixed  reluctance 
to  form  any  relation  which  might  ab- 
sorb him,  or  separate  him  from  his  art, 
once  more  commanded  him. 

And  now  this  unexpected  meeting  in 
the  gallery — "really,  she  was  very  dis- 
turbing!" "How  clever  she  is,"  he 
mused;  "how  amazing  the  feminine  in- 
stinct." The  exquisite  flattery  of  her 
manner,  her  unaffected  interest  in  his 
work,  again  took  possession  of  his  mind 
with  its  soft  persuasion,  and  he  smiled 
to  himself.  The  sound  of  her  voice 
was  in  his  ears — and  he  confessed  to 
himself  that  he  had  never  quite  forgot- 
ten it.  Its  deep  music,  its  mysterious 
languors, — how  it  expressed  her.  The 
droop  of  her  white  lids  under  the 
straight  brows  came  back  to  him,  her 
brilliant,  upward  glance  of  sudden 
understanding.  "What  eyes!"  he  said. 


60  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

"I  should  like  to  paint  them.  What 
has  she  done  with  herself — she  is  rich, 
idle,  probably  unhappy ;  unless  the 
nature  I  once  knew  is  quite  subdued, 
and  it  is  not;  she  is  far  more  intelligent 
than  I  thought.  No,  she  is  too  com- 
plex, too  difficult." 

His  thoughts  ran  thus  about  her  as  he 
finished  his  walk,  and  recurred  after- 
wards during  the  week  that  followed. 
He  left  a  card  at  Mrs.  Rivington's  door, 
but  the  days  were  long,  she  had  pro- 
longed her  drive  in  the  park,  and, 
indeed,  the  hour  was  early,  he  had  not 
thought  to  find  her. 


Chapter    V. 

|HE  first  warm  days  of  April  were 
succeeded  by  a  sudden  return 
of  cold,  of  rain  and  wind;  most  of 
Helen's  friends  had  sailed  for  Europe, 
and  there  was  a  cessation  of  opera. 
Helen  had  spent  several  evenings  at 
home,  with  no  other  occupation  than 
her  own  thoughts,  which,  as  usually  hap- 
pened under  such  conditions,  had  been 
making  her  very  uncomfortable.  She 
was  seated  one  day  in  her  drawing-room, 
idly  watching  the  rain  which  drove 
against  the  window,  her  book  fallen 
from  her  hand,  her  thoughts  wandering 
aimlessly,  when  she  heard  the  roll  of  a 
carriage  and  a  ring  at  the  door.  The 
servant  entered  the  room  and  asked  if 
she  were  receiving,  and  on  her  affirma- 
tive answer,  announced  "  Mrs.  Lindsay." 
"Why,  Kate,"  said  Mrs.  Rivington, 
61 


62  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

rising  and  kissing  her  cheek,  "how 
awfully  good  of  you!  I  didn't  suppose 
anything  would  bring  you  out  on  such 
a  day." 

"My  dear,"  Mrs.  Lindsay  replied,  "I 
was  bored  to  extinction,  and  thought 
you  would  cheer  me  up." 

"A  sort  of  last  resort  when  every- 
thing fails,"  Helen  laughed.  "Never 
mind,  I  am  grateful  for  my  mercies. 
Sit  down,  I'll  ring  for  some  tea.  I  am 
very  glad  to  see  you." 

Mrs.  Lindsay  threw  off  her  wrap  and 
settled  herself  in  the  chair  by  the  fire, 
putting  out  a  small  foot  in  a  high- heeled 
shoe  to  the  blaze. 

"Oh!  how  comfortable  this  fire  is — it 
is  as  disagreeable  outside  as  John  was 
last  night;  but,  never  mind!  he  is  gone, 
and  that  woman  with  him." 

"Good  heavens!"  said  Helen,  "you 
don't  mean  to  say  your  husband's 
eloped?" 

"Eloped!  Of  course  not;  he  wouldn't 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  63 

know  how;  it's  his  aunt  who  has  done 
nothing  but  show  me  my  duty  since  she 
came.  She  makes  John  perfectly  un- 
bearable while  she  is  in  the  house.  He 
always  agrees  with  her!  Fancy — I 
can't  do  anything  with  him  while  she 
is  in  the  house." 

She  was  a  tall,  slight  woman,  very 
fashionably  dressed,  an  expression  of 
restless  discontent  in  her  brilliant  eyes, 
which  were  black  as  if  they  had  been 
washed  in  ink.  Her  face  was  pale, 
almost  triangular  in  shape  with  its 
whimsical  small  chin  and  impertinent 
nose,  her  small  mouth  was  brilliantly 
red,  her  voice  was  clear,  high  pitched 
and  decided. 

Helen  took  up  a  bit  of  embroidery, 
which  lay  on  the  sofa  beside  her,  and 
looked  at  her  friend. 

"Relations  are  trying,  I  admit;  is 
anything  else  the  matter?" 

"Oh,  no,"  Mrs.  Lindsay  replied, 
"only  I  am  so  tired  of  New  York  and 


64  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

John  won't  listen  to  my  going  over  as 
every  one  else  does — he  says  he  doesn't 
believe  in  my  tearing  across  the  Atlantic 
every  year — he  thinks  we  ought  to  stay 
at  home  and  encourage  American  in- 
dustries— American  industries  indeed! 
Can't  you  hear  him?  He  delivered  me 
a  long  lecture  about  it  last  night  at  din- 
ner— we  dined  at  home  for  the  first 
time  in  three  months.  I  think  that  is 
what  is  the  matter.  I  am  afraid  I  was 
not  intended  for  domestic  life.  Never 
mind,  I  shall  have  to  get  my  gowns 
over  here.  He  will  regret  that  I  am 
sure.  I  shall  make  myself  look  a  per- 
fect fright." 

"  He  ought  to  be  satisfied  with  your 
conscientious    encouragement    of     the 
American  dressmaker  at  least." 
"Well,  he  is  good  I  admit." 
"You  are  incorrigible.    To  hear  you, 
one  would  believe  you  were  a  heartless, 
frivolous  thing — you  will   never  admit 
all  the  good  things  I  know  about  you — 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  65 

now  confess,  where  have  you  been  this 
afternoon?  You  look  guilty.  'Children's 
Nursery,'  or  'The  Hospital  for  the 
Blind' — or  the — " 

"Do  be  quiet,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsay. 

"It  is  something  worse  yet!  You 
have  been  regularly  slumming,  and  have 
a  basket  and  provisions  in  your  carriage 
this  minute!" 

"Well,  it  is  empty,  and  I  didn't  bring 
it  in."  She  laughed  outright.  "What 
have  you  been  doing  yourself  since 
Lent  began?" 

"Oh  nothing — nothing — absolutely 
nothing;  it  is  dull  I  must  confess." 

"Why  don't  we  arrange  something?" 

"What  is  there  to  do?" 

"Shall  we  go  somewhere  for  Sun- 
day?" 

Mrs.  Lindsay  demurred.  "Oh,  no, 
it  is  too  early  for  the  country,  and  then 
such  weather!  We  should  be  cross  and 
quarrel  before  we  got  back  to  town." 

"Well,  then  come  and  dine  with  me 
5 


66  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

— I  will  ask  anyone  you  like — come  say 
who  you  want,  Kate." 

"No,  I  don't  like  dinners,  they  bore 
me  to  death,  or  to  indigestion  which 
leads  to  it.  I  am  always  put  next  to 
somebody  I  don't  like,  and  then  I 
overeat." 

Helen  laughed.  "  But  there  are  din- 
ners and  dinners;  we  have  paid  off  all 
our  debts  by  this  time,  and  might 
arrange  something  amusing."  She 
stopped  a  moment  thinking.  "We 
needn't  dine  at  home,  we  might  borrow 
Graham  Murray's  studio.  Did  you  ever 
see  it?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  I  have." 

"My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Rivington,  "it 
is  the  most  beautiful  place  I  have  ever 
seen — in  that  new  building  overlooking 
the  park.  I  think  he  would  lend  it  to 
us,  and  we  could  get  some  nice  people 
together,  it  might  be  quite  amusing — 
What  do  you  think?" 

"Is  it  really  queer  and   different?" 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  67 

asked  Mrs.  Lindsay.  "  It  might  be 
nice." 

"I  shan't  describe  it  to  you,  but  we  will 
go  there  one  day  and  see  it  if  you  like." 

"Shall  we  give  it  together?" 

"Yes,  why  not?" 

"John  won't  be  here,  but  your  hus- 
band will,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  and  I  think  it  might  amuse 
him.  He  said  the  other  day  he  would 
like  to  see  the  rooms.  What  a  pity  Mr. 
Lindsay  will  be  away.  Your  domestic- 
ity isn't  lasting  very  long,  is  it?" 

"  Quite  long  enough — but  who  shall 
we  have?" 

"Oh,  Grace  Armitage,  I  suppose,  and 
Mrs.  deCourcy." 

"  Yes,  Grace  is  so  decorative  and  Mrs. 
de  Courcy  will  dance.  We  must  have 
Teddy,  too." 

Mrs.  Rivington  looked  up  in  surprise. 
"  Is  Teddy  de  Courcy  here?  " 

"Yes,  didn't  you  know?  He  landed 
last  week." 


68  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

"How  is  he  looking?" 

"Oh,  very  fit  indeed — with  a  fresh 
stock  of  stories  and  bibelots.  He  has 
begun  to  distribute  them  already.  I 
wish  you  could  see  the  fan  he  has 
brought  me." 

"  How  nice  of  him,"  said  Helen. 
"He  never  forgets  you,  does  he?  But 
no  wonder  you  are  friends.  You  are 
really  so  amusing,  you  two,  when  you 
are  together.  It  doesn't  make  much 
difference  who  else  we  ask  to  the  dinner, 
you  and  Teddy  would  make  anything 
go." 

"I'm  afraid  he  will  get  drunk,  but  as 
he  is  funnier  than  ever  that  way,  I  sup- 
pose it  doesn't  matter." 

"His  wife  will  keep  him  in  order,  I 
think.  He  always  behaves  better  when 
she  is  there." 

"The  reason  why  he  stays  away  so 
much,  I  suppose." 

"Undoubtedly." 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  69 

"There  is  Graham  Murray  himself 
and  his  wife,"  said  Mrs.  Rivington. 

"Yes,  of  course,  she  is  a  nice  woman. 
I  like  her." 

"Yes,  so  do  I;  but  I  do  wish  she 
wouldn't  always  wreathe  her  brow  with 
ivy.  It  was  pretty  some  years  ago,  but 
why  does  she  go  on  wearing  it?" 

"To  deck  the  ruin  I  suppose,"  said 
Mrs.  Lindsay.  "Dear  me,  if  people 
could  only  see  how  they  looked.  It  is 
fatal  to  be  original  at  her  age." 

"Her  age,  my  dear,  is  1830.  We 
must  be  grateful,  she  doesn't  wear  side 
curls  and  hoops." 

"We  have  five  women  now.  We  must 
think  of  some  men." 

"Who  shall  we  ask?  Dear  me!  what 
a  dearth  there  is  of  them.  I  wish  we 
could  discover  some  new  ones." 

"So  do  I,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsay  with 
emphasis;  "they  might  have  some  grat- 
itude for  all  we  do  for  them.  For  my 


JO  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

part,  I'm  tired  of  society  anyway.  The 
men  Stre  all  utterly  spoiled,  and  as  for 
the  wbmett  they  are  cats,  the  whole  of 
them,  they  do  nothing  but  talk  about 
each  other — I  am  sure  they  do  about 
me,  and  about  you  too,  my  dear ;  don't 
think  you  are  exempt." 

"I  don't  suppose  I  am,"  said  Helen 
quietly.  She  had  taken  a  small  tablet 
from  a  table  on  which  to  write  the  list 
of  guests  and  now  sat  waiting,  pencil  in 
hand,  quite  undisturbed.  "Why  do  you 
go  out  then?" 

"Because  there  is  nothing  else  to 
do,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsay,  looking  mood- 
ily into  the  fire.  Then  she  rose  impul- 
sively and  seated  herself  by  Helen  on 
the  sofa.  "Whom  have  you  written 
down,"  she  asked  with  interest. 

"No  one  else,"  said  Helen.  "Can't 
you  suggest  someone?" 

"No,  I  can't.  I  only  know  the  old 
ones." 

Helen  was  silent  a  moment. 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  Jl 

"What  are  you  thinking  of?"  said 
Mrs.  Lindsay. 

"I  was  wondering  whether  you  would 
like  a  man  I  used  to  know,  and  who 
has  just  come  over  here  with  his  pic- 
tures." 

"You  don't  mean  Aytoun,  do  you? 
— for  if  you  do  I  think  I  might." 

"Why!  would  you?  I  thought  you 
didn't  like  artists." 

"Well,  ordinarily,  I  don't.  I  think 
they  are  queer,  and  I  haven't  an  idea 
what  to  say  to  them,  but  Grace  Armi- 
tage  dragged  me  in  to  see  his  pic- 
tures the  other  day,  when  I  was  driving 
with  her,  and  I  liked  them.  I  think  I 
will  have  my  portrait  done,  that  is  if 
he  is  nice.  I  don't  want  to  be  bored. 
John  has  been  insisting  I  should  be 
done." 

"He  is  nice,  very — but  I  don't  know 
whether  you  would  like  him." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Mrs.  Lindsay, 
with  a  little  air  of  chagrin. 


72  A   SAWDUST   DOLL. 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Helen,  "after  all 
perhaps  you  would — there  is  only  one 
thing  absolutely  certain  about  you,  and 
that  is  your  unexpectedness.  We  will 
ask  him  anyway." 

"Very  well,  now  we  need  another 
woman  and  two  more  men  to  make  up 
the  dozen." 

"There  are  the  Bertrams  and  Tom 
Gary." 

"Would  the  Bertrams  come  in  from 
the  country?  They  only  went  out  last 
week?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  think  so,  and  they  are 
really  very  nice.  She  is  so  pretty,  and 
I  like  Louis,  too.  We  always  get  on 
very  well  together,  and  if  we  want  Tom 
Gary,  he  won't  come  unless  she  is  in- 
vited." 

"  Are  you  friends  again  with  Tom  ?  " 
Helen  asked. 

"  Oh  yes,  no  one  is  worth  quarrelling 
with.  I  thought  he  was  good  looking 
once.  How  could  I  ?  " 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  73 

"  So  he  is,  very,"  said  Helen.  "  I  am 
sure  he  thinks  so  himself." 

"  He  ought  to  know,  he  is  the  best 
authority,  he  has  given  the  subject  thor- 
ough attention.  They  are  none  of  them 
worth  thinking  about.  After  all  my 
old  John  is  the  only  one  I  could  ever 
put  up  with,  and  he  is  a  necessary  evil. 
Here  is  the  tea.  Give  me  a  cup  — 
and  let's  talk  some  more  about  the 
dinner." 

The  servant  brought  in  the  table  and 
lighted  the  lamps,  which  filled  the  room 
with  a  warm  light,  shining  upon  Helen's 
dark  head  and  her  white  hands  busy 
among  the  tea  cups.  Mrs.  Lindsay 
drank  her  tea  leisurely  and  with  evident 
relish,  while  they  discussed  the  details 
of  their  plans,  and  then  it  grew  late ; 
it  was  still  raining  and  had  become 
quite  dark.  Mrs.  Lindsay  remembered 
she  was  dining  early  and  going  to  the 
play ;  she  rose  to  go,  but  turned  sud- 
denly at  the  door. 


74  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

"We  haven't  decided  what  day  we 
shall  have  it!  "  she  exclaimed. 

"To  be  sure,  how  silly."  Helen 
turned  to  her  desk  and  referred  to  her 
engagement  book.  "Will  next  week 
Thursday  do  ?  That  is  the  first  day 
I  am  free." 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsay, 
drawing  on  her  gloves.  "  Good-bye, 
dear;  I  must  really  go.  Oh,  I  forgot, 
John  may  be  at  home  by  that  time,  and 
that  will  make  thirteen." 

"What  shall  we  do,  we  can't  get 
along  without  you?  " 

"Never  mind,  it  won't  make  any 
difference.  John  and  I  are  always  at 
sixes  and  sevens." 

"  How  absurd,"  said  Helen  laughing. 

Mrs.  Lindsay  kissed  her  affection- 
ately. "  Nice  lady,"  she  said.  "  Good- 
bye, I  can't  stay  another  minute." 


Chapter  VI. 

* 

IHEN  Helen  sat  down  at  her  desk 
the  next  morning  after  this  con- 
versation with  her  friend,  and  began  her 
note  to  Aytoun,  she  found  her  pen  a 
laggard.  She  was  astonished  at  this, 
and  made  a  mental  admission  of  her 
self-consciousness.  She  knew  quite  well 
that  she  was  taking  an  aggressive  step 
in  giving  Aytoun  this  proof  of  her  rec- 
ollection of  him  and  following  up  what 
she  more  than  half  suspected  was  a  re- 
treat. She  had  assured  herself  of  the 
early  hour  which  he  had  chosen  to  leave 
his  card,  and  had  sufficiently  deplored 
her  own  curiosity.  She  knew  herself  to 
be  taking  account  of  the  appearance 
and  not  the  actual  and  significant  in- 
tention in  acknowledging  the  empty 
courtesy  by  this  invitation.  But  she 
75 


76  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

justified  herself  for  this  error  in  tactics 
by  the  thought  of  his  remembered  shy- 
ness, and  refused  to  believe  this  expres- 
sion other  than  an  indication  of  his  per- 
sistent character.  She  laughed  a  little 
nervously  at  the  care  with  which  she 
wrote  and  re-wrote  her  formal  little 
note,  saying  to  herself  that  in  any  case 
she  was  not  taking  him  seriously. 

She  half  expected  a  refusal  of  her  in- 
vitation, and  when  Aytoun's  note  of 
acceptance  arrived  she  was  relieved,  and 
contentedly  admitted  to  herself  an  ac- 
cession of  intelligence  in  the  manage- 
ment of  particular  cases. 

The  balance  of  Aytoun's  desire  and 
reluctance  to  see  Mrs.  Rivington  again 
was  as  she  had  expected,  tipped  in  the 
negative  scale  by  the  weight  of  his  in- 
born shyness;  her  invitation  promptly 
displaced  this,  and  he  found  himself 
looking  forward  to  their  meeting  with 
an  anticipation  as  pleasurable  as  it  was 
disturbing. 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  77 

When  he  arrived  at  the  studio  in  the 
top  of  the  tall  building  to  which  Mrs. 
Rivington's  note  had  directed  him,  on  the 
evening  of  the  day  set  for  the  dinner, 
it  was  already  filled  with  people,  laugh- 
ing and  talking  with  the  prompt  inter- 
change of  long  familiarity.  He  paused 
at  the  door,  confused  with  the  sense  of 
his  own  strangeness,  when  Mrs.  Riving- 
ton  caught  sight  of  him  and  came  for- 
ward, smiling,  to  welcome  him. 

"My  husband  has  failed  me,"  she 
said.  "He  had  promised  to  come,  and 
I  thought  he  would  up  to  the  last  mo- 
ment, but  he  rarely  abandons  his  whist. 
It  is  I  who  have  to  give  him  up  after  all." 
She  laughed  a  little,  hesitating  slightly 
over  her  words;  then  she  turned  and 
introduced  Aytoun  to  Murray  Graham, 
the  owner  of  the  beautiful  room  in 
which  they  had  assembled.  He  was  a 
tall  man  with  reddish  hair,  growing 
awkwardly  away  from  a  fine  brow,  whose 
simple  cordiality  of  manner  put  Aytoun 


78  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

at  his  ease.  He  recognized  the  brother 
artist  and  they  fell  into  mutual  question- 
ings, Mrs.  Rivington  standing  by  when 
the  Bertrams,  who  were  the  late  comers, 
arrived,  and  the  company  sat  down  to 
dinner. 

Aytoun  was  between  Helen  and  her 
friend  Mrs.  Armitage,  who  began  talk- 
ing about  some  marriage,  just  an- 
nounced, of  people  well  known  to  them 
both,  and  for  a  moment  he  was  left  to 
himself.  He  took  advantage  of  this 
moment  of  quiet  to  look  about  him. 

The  room  was  large  and  of  a  curious 
shape,  with  one  deeply  curving  recess 
and  many  nooks  and  corners  hung  with 
curtains.  Curious  lamps  of  brass  and 
bronze,  shining  mysteriously  among  the 
shadows  which  gathered  in  the  corners 
of  the  room,  lit  into  luminous  ruby 
smoothly  hanging  folds  of  deep  red 
drapery,  or  with  wandering  rays  brought 
out  here  and  there  the  figures  or  foliage 
of  a  tapestry.  In  a  far  corner  above  a 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  /Q 

low  seat  with  cushions,  the  early  moon 
scattered  opal  prisms  through  a  painted 
window.  The  table  stood  in  the  recess, 
whose  ceiling  was  supported  by  fluted 
columns  of  gold  with  carved  and  wreath- 
ing ornaments  of  laurel,  and  tapestry 
hung  upon  the  wall.  The  table  was  in 
the  form  of  a  half  circle,  following  the 
shape  of  the  recess,  the  seats  were  curved 
divans  set  against  the  wall  and  heaped 
with  pillows.  In  the  curve  of  the  table 
opposite  to  where  the  guests  were  sit- 
ting were  placed  two  enormous  Roman 
jars  of  a  light  green  color,  adorned  with 
deeper  green  leaves,  which  held  tall 
laurel  trees,  in  which  lights  were  con- 
cealed shining  from  among  the  foliage 
with  the  clear  blue  radiance  of  a  dia- 
mond. The  table  was  covered  with  a 
heavy  yellow  brocade,  and  heaped  with 
roses  and  orchids,  while  orchids  hung 
from  the  ceiling.  The  tinkling  music 
of  a  Spanish  band  of  mandolin  players 
behind  one  of  the  curtains,  filled  the 


8O  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

room  with  its  sparkling  spray-like  sound. 
The  glimmer  from  the  laurel  trees 
brought  out  with  clear  lights  and  clean 
shadows,  the  faces  of  the  men  and 
women  who  sat  about  the  table.  The 
strongly  variant  types  of  the  women 
astonished  Aytoun.  He  had  known 
his  own  country  only  in  the  quiet  by- 
ways of  New  England,  where  the  emaci- 
ated English  pattern  is  so  generally  im- 
pressed upon  a  melancholy  and  strenuous 
race,  he  was  utterly  unprepared  for  this 
contrasting  combination  of  exotic  beauty, 
which  the  great  city  with  its  inevitable 
choice  of  the  best  had  offered  as  it  were 
for  his  inspection;  he  alone  among 
them  being  the  conscious  and  im- 
pressed spectator.  At  the  outer  curve 
of  the  table,  between  the  columns,  sat 
Mrs.  Armitage,  decorative  truly,  with 
the  fine  columnar  lines  of  her  throat, 
her  short,  well-cut  nose,  with  its  fine 
nostrils,  and  the  free  rippled  sweep  of 
the  heavy,  reddish  hair.  She  moved 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  8 1 

her  head  with  a  proud,  almost  courage- 
ous lift  as  she  joined  conversation  with 
her  neighbor,  Murray  Graham,  speaking 
in  a  deep  and  resonantly  musical  voice. 
"A  beautiful,  high-spirited  and  intelli- 
gent woman,"  Aytoun  thought  as  he 
watched  her.  She  was  talking  to  Mur- 
ray about  his  last  new  portrait  of  a 
woman  well  known  to  them  all,  judi- 
ciously flattering,  genuinely  interested. 
Aytoun  wondered  what  he  should  find 
to  say  when  she  should  turn  that  beauti- 
ful head  toward  him  —  he  was  content 
to  wait,  he  enjoyed  looking  at  her. 

At  one  end  of  the  table  sat  Mrs.  de 
Courcy,  a  very  dark  woman,  of  a  pure 
Andalusian  type.  She  was  laughing 
and  talking,  the  focus  of  a  story  telling 
eddy.  Her  brilliant  dark  face,  and 
flowing  line  of  throat  and  chin,  floated 
like  a  tropic  flower  over  the  wave  of 
her  snowy  white  shoulders.  She  wore 
many  jewels  and  radiated  warm  happi- 
ness and  good  humor. 
6 


82  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

At  the  other  end  Mrs.  Bertram  sat 
primly  in  her  seat,  fair-haired  with  a 
Puritan  fairness  of  skin,  dressed  in 
white,  a  blue  ribbon  in  her  yellow  locks 
and  no  other  color  but  the  two  roses  of 
her  cheeks  and  the  rose  at  her  shoulder. 
There  was  a  faint  blue  shadow  about 
the  eyes,  and  a  delicate  fragility  was 
suggested  in  the  slight  roundness  of 
the  arms,  the  blue  veins  in  her  temples. 
Her  eyes  were  keen  and  alert,  and  her 
voice  was  clear  with  no  mysteries  or 
suggestions  in  its  tones.  Next  her  was 
Tom  Gary,  master  of  the  Willow  Brook 
Hunt,  a  tall,  thin  man  with  a  very 
straight  nose,  a  drooping,  fair  mustache 
and  a  fatigued  expression  about  his 
keen,  blue  eyes.  She  was  chaffing  him 
with  a  light  ease  and  evident  interest, 
which  showed  that  she  not  only  appre- 
ciated, but  understood  him.  Mrs. 
Rivington  and  Mrs.  Lindsay,  in  arrang- 
ing their  dinner,  had  not  neglected  to 
put  them  together.  They  never  went 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  83 

where  the  other  was  not  invited  —  not 
that  they  were  in  love  with  each  other 
—  far  from  it,  but  she  was  the  prettiest 
woman  of  the  young  set  they  both  be- 
longed to,  and  he  the  smartest  man.  It 
looked  well  to  be  together. 

Their  conversation  was  the  light  run- 
ning gossip  of  the  hunting  field,  or  of 
their  friends,  whom  they  referred  to  by 
their  first  names.  "  Ruth  is  leading 
Tony  cleverly  up  the  fence  this  time, 
don't  you  think  ?  "  Aytoun  overheard 
her  saying  to  her  companion  :  "  Yes,  it 
looks  like  it  now,"  was  the  answer. 
"  She  has  a  wonderfully  light  hand,  but 
he  is  a  rank  refuser.  Nobody  knows 
what  will  happen  at  the  finish." 

On  the  other  side  of  Mrs.  Bertram  a 
small  dark-haired  man  with  quickly 
moving  eyes  and  an  inky  black  mous- 
tache was  shouting  across  the  table  to 
Mrs.  Lindsay.  This  was  Teddy  de 
Courcy,  and  he  was  in  his  best  form. 
Helen  had  insisted  on  putting  him  on 


84  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

the  opposite  side  of  the  table  from  Mrs. 
Lindsay,  and,  as  she  had  anticipated, 
they  had  struck  fire  and  were  keeping 
the  table  in  a  roar. 

Helen  watched  Aytoun  as  he  sur- 
veyed the  room  and  the  company, 
divining  the  effect  of  the  beauty  of  the 
one  and  the  variety  of  the  other  upon 
his  mind,  with  that  quick  intuition  of 
another's  thought  which  was  her  pecu- 
liar gift. 

"  It  is  a  pretty  room,"  she  said,  with 
an  upward  inflection. 

Aytoun  looked  at  the  fair  company 
of  laughing,  .white  shouldered  women 
about  the  rose-strewn  table  and  at  Mrs. 
Armitage  with  her  auburn  hair  and 
gown  of  velvet,  seated  in  the  midst, 
against  the  background  of  tapestry  and 
fluted  pillars. 

"Venice  and  Veronese,"  he  ex- 
claimed enthusiastically,  "wonderfully 
beautiful !  I  am  so  glad  you  asked 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  8$ 

She  smiled  and  began  to  tell  him  of 
the  people,  introducing  him  to  his 
other  neighbor,  and  then  she  character- 
istically brought  up  a  topic  of  interest 
common  to  them  all  and  soon  the  four, 
Mrs.  Armitage  and  Murray,  Aytoun 
and  Helen,  were  talking  about  art  and 
architecture,  literature  and  music,  the 
knell  of  realism,  the  birth  of  symbol- 
ism. They  were  very  cultivated  indeed. 
Mrs.  Armitage  chanted  a  line  of  Byron, 
Helen  quoted  a  verse  of  Verlaine, 
which  Aytoun  had  last  heard  from  the 
lips  of  the  convict  poet  himself,  in  a 
reeking  brasserie  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Seine,  and  which  had  haunted  him 
ever  since. 
"Qu'as  fu  fait, —  otoi  quivoila  pleurant 

sans  cesse" 

"  Qu'as  fu  fait    o   tot   qui  voila   dt  fa 
jeunesse" 

The  despairing  cry  of  a  ruined  soul 
dropping  simply,  pathetically  from  the 
pure  lips  of  this  daughter  of  the  Puri- 


86  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

tans,  startled  Aytoun  again  with  the 
same  thrill  of  sympathy  which  had 
united  them  that  moment  in  the  gallery 
before  his  picture.  She  hesitated  a 
moment — "how  does  that  verse  end?" 
she  said.  "  I  forget." 

Aytoun  finished  it.  Their  eyes  met 
and  one  more  unforgetable  instant  was 
added  to  their  lives.  For  a  moment 
the  gay  voices  and  laughter  sounded 
afar,  and  the  noisy  tinkle  of  the  man- 
dolins sank  to  a  murmur.  The  solitude 
of  this  insistent  sympathy  bound  them 
in  an  invisible  circle  which  contained 
nothing  but  their  consciousness  of  each 
other.  Then  it  passed. 

"  How  long  have  you  lived,  I'd  like 
to  know?"  he  asked  her,  puzzled,  half 
laughing.  "  You  seer!  with  a  saint's 
face.  What  have  you  to  do  with  the 
occult  maladies  of  a  lost  soul  ?  Where 
have  you  known  despair  ?  " 

"Ah,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  with 
her  mysterious  eyes,  "  the  griefs  of  the 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  8/ 

imagination  are  many,  I  am  centuries 
old." 

"What's  that  you  say,"  asked  Mur- 
ray, "  about  being  centuries  old  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Armitage,  "  Helen's 
romantic.  It's  her  most  effective  mood, 
but  not  her  only  one;  ask  her  to  dance." 

Helen  looked  up  and  saw  Teddy 
de  Courcy,  who  had  left  his  seat  at  the 
end  of  the  table,  and  was  dancing  a 
bolero  to  the  Spanish  tune  of  the  man- 
dolins. They  were  all  applauding  him, 
clapping  their  hands  in  time  to  the 
music,  as  he  threw  his  slight  figure  into 
the  graceful  poses  of  the  dance. 

"Oh  yes,  come  dance,"  said  Murray, 
"dance,  Mrs.  Rivington,  dance!"  they 
all  entreated. 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then 
her  face  breaking  into  a  merry  smile, 
her  eyes  sparkling  with  excitement,  she 
slipped  from  her  place  and  joined  the 
dancer  on  the  floor. 

She  was  dressed  in  a  trailing  gown  of 


88  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

yellow  satin,  with  a  deep  red  rose  fas- 
tened in  her  hair ;  bending  low,  she 
swept  her  gown  away  from  her  feet, 
gathering  its  heavy  folds  in  one  hand, 
while  with  the  other  she  held  her  fan 
above  her  head  in  a  pose  of  indescriba- 
ble individuality  and  grace,  and  then 
she  danced,  untaught,  unguided,  except 
by  her  own  beauty,  which  seemed  to 
dictate  every  dissolving  pose. 

Aytoun  watched  her,  bewildered,  fas- 
cinated beyond  hope  of  recall. 

The  dainty  challenge  with  which  she 
threw  back  her  head  and  lightly  stamped 
her  slippered  foot,  the  luring  invitation 
of  her  liquid  eyes,  half  unconscious  of 
their  charm,  as  she  bent  and  swayed 
with  a  fawn-like  lightness  of  motion, 
swept  over  Aytoun's  senses  with  a 
strange  feeling  of  faintness. 

Suddenly  she  stopped  and  threw  her 
slight  body  backwards,  lifting  her  fan 
once  more  above  her  head. 

There  was  a  storm  of  applause. 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  89 

"She  never  danced  so  well,"  whis- 
pered Mrs.  Armitage. 

"Oh,  dance  again,"  they  entreated, 
and  still  protested  as  she  found  her  way 
to  her  seat,  blushing,  confused,  aston- 
ished at  herself. 

And  then  the  merry  contagion  seized 
them  all,  and  there  was  a  confusion  of 
singing  and  dancing. 

Aytoun  could  only  look  on  with  ever 
increasing  astonishment  at  these  people 
born  in  artificiality,  nurtured  on  con- 
ventions, who  in  a  rare  moment  of 
graceful  abandon  could  return  so  easily 
to  natural,  almost  childish,  amusement. 

The  scene  changed  continually. 

Mrs.  Armitage  with  an  applauding 
circle  about  her,  snatched  a  gold  cap 
and  an  inlaid  sword  from  an  Oriental 
canopy  and  drawing  her  sumptuous 
gown  away  from  her  fine  straight  ankles 
and  ruffled  petticoat  essayed  to  show 
her  newly  learned  skill  in  fencing. 
Throwing  herself  forward  and  recover- 


9O  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

ing  position  with  astonishing  ease  and 
grace,  she  revealed  the  Greek  perfec- 
tion of  her  figure. 

And  then  the  group  dissolved  and 
formed  again  in  a  ring  under  Mrs.  de 
Courcy's  leadership,  dancing  and  sing- 
ing at  the  top  of  their  voices. 

"Daisy,  Daisy,  give  me  your  answer 
true,"  they  sang,  these  women  with  the 
diadems  of  queens,  as  if  they  had  been 
a  group  of  ragged  urchins  on  a  street 
corner. 

Aytoun  wondered  how  long  their 
spirits  would  last,  and  finally  they  did 
become  exhausted. 

Teddy  de  Courcy  threw  himself  at 
Mrs.  Lindsay's  feet,  swearing  quite 
audibly  his  life  long  devotion,  and 
Murray  took  luxurious  possession  of  a 
comfortable  divan,  Mrs.  de  Courcy  and 
Mrs.  Armitage  on  either  side,  while  he 
explained  benevolently  with  a  not  too 
distant  appreciation,  his  faith  in  the 
religion  of  beauty. 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  QI 

Mrs.  Grahame,  she  of  the  ivy  wreath, 
had  become  very  much  fatigued,  for 
she  had  danced  with  rash  enthusiasm 
forgetting  her  years.  She  was  fanning 
herself  breathlessly,  while  Mr.  Lindsay 
and  Louis  Bertram  talked  across  her 
ample  draperies  about  the  latest  flurry 
in  the  street. 

Mrs.  Bertram  and  Tom  Gary,  who 
had  held  themselves  slightly  aloof  from 
the  prevailing  gayety,  were  pursuing 
their  study  of  each  other,  and  Helen 
and  Aytoun  found  themselves  in  one  of 
the  quiet  corners,  partly  screened  by  a 
heavy  red  curtain,  which  hung  against 
a  gilded  column. 

In  a  moment,  this  slight  ebullition  of 
gayety,  like  a  burst  of  sunshine  on  a 
wintry  day,  was  over.  Aytoun  was 
astonished  to  witness  its  sudden  disso- 
lution, to  see  that  no  sleeping  lions 
were  loosened  in  this  merry  play;  the 
atmosphere  of  cool  detachment,  of  fa- 
miliarity without  affection,  of  uncon- 


Q2  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

ventional  demonstration,  without  the 
most  remote  significance  in  impulse, 
amazed  him,  with  his  totally  differing 
experiences,  his  ignorance  of  his  own 
country.  The  will  o'  wisp  of  febrile 
gayety  and  self-forgetting  excitement 
floats  usually  over  old  marshes  of  decay, 
but  here  it  dances  over  ice. 

The  mandolins  still  tinkled  on,  but 
the  flowers  lay  scattered  on  the  floor, 
the  lights  burned  a  little  dimly,  and  the 
delicious  quiet  of  the  end  of  a  feast  set- 
tled down  upon  the  room.  In  a  mo- 
ment they  would  all  scatter,  but  just 
now  they  talked  to  each  other  in  pleas- 
ant mellowed  confidences  in  a  passing 
moment  of  content. 

Behind  the  curtain  Aytoun  and  Helen 
sat  as  if  alone,  the  voices  and  the  music 
coming  to  their  ears  in  an  unheeded 
murmur. 

The  excitement  of  the  dance  still 
glowed  in  her  cheeks,  and  a  curly  ten- 
dril of  hair  escaped  over  her  brow. 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  93 

She  was  rallying  him  gayly  about  his 
fear  of  her,  sitting  with  her  hands 
clasped  over  her  knees,  her  head  thrown 
slightly  back,  while  she  looked  at  him 
from  under  her  straight  brows  provok- 
ingly. 

Aytoun  began  to  dream,  and  the  un- 
forgotten  fancies  of  his  boyhood  clasped 
him  again  as  he  sat  there  in  the  cur- 
tained shadow  listening  to  her  voice. 
He  felt  again  the  little  mortal  sinking 
of  the  heart,  when  she  turned  her  head 
and  looked  at  him  full  with  those  deep 
clairvoyant  eyes.  The  feeling  of  slavery, 
of  subjection,  which  had  frightened  him 
as  a  boy,  swept  over  him  now  over- 
poweringly.  She  had  one  look  he  had 
never  quite  banished  from  his  mind,  it 
had  haunted  him  for  years.  The  red, 
half-open  lips,  the  slight  dilating  of  the 
sensitive  nostrils  under  the  indrawn 
breath,  the  drooping  liquid  eyes,  ah,  it 
was  intolerable!  She  could  not  know 
how  cruel  it  was.  So  she  had  looked 


94  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

in  his  remembrance,  so  she  was  looking 
now,  but  her  voice  was  clearly  sweet;  as 
she  repeated  : 

"Confess,  you  are  afraid!  " 

"And  if  I  am,"  he  answered  falter- 
ing, "  are  you  not  afraid  of  my  fear  — 
there  is  contagion  in  a  panic." 

"  No,"  she  said,  meeting  his  intensely 
questioning  gaze,  with  a  disarming 
glance  from  frank  wide-open  eyes,  "  no, 
you  understand  me.  Perhaps  we  may 
understand  each  other.  There  is  no 
fear  where  no  darkness  is.  We  were 
friends  once,  let  us  be  friends  again  — 
say  yes." 

He  took  her  hands  and  kissed  them 
lingeringly,  one  after  the  other,  unre- 
buked,  completely  conquered,  and  in 
her  face  was  a  look  of  beautifying  happi- 
ness, and  in  his  mind  the  farewell  to 
calculation  or  regret  as  he  faltered  : 

"  Anything,  anything  to  you." 


Chapter  VII. 

JRIGHT  weather  came  again  in 
the  last  days  of  April,  and  with 
it  a  final  week  of  opera,  a  parting  obli- 
gation to  the  winter's  occupations. 

Aytoun  was  astonished  at  the  willing- 
ness he  observed  in  himself  to  accept 
the  invitations  which  came  to  him  to 
attend  it,  from  Mrs.  Lindsay,  who  was 
still  contemplating  her  portrait,  from 
Mrs.  Armitage,  who  confessed  herself 
interested  in  the  personality  of  the 
famous  painter,  and  from  others  of  her 
kind.  He  no  longer  attempted  to  mis- 
name the  preoccupation  which  filled  his 
nights  and  haunted  his  footsteps  like  a 
presence,  and  if  he  had,  the  keenness  of 
his  disappointment  at  not  seeing  Mrs. 
Rivington  at  the  Opera  would  have  en- 
lightened him.  The  resentful  reluctance 
95 


g6  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

to  be  made  a  plaything  of,  his  own  tor- 
menting shyness,  and  his  admitted 
ignorance  of  the  influences  and  preju- 
dices which  governed  Helen's  nature, 
had  all  been  banished,  and  he  daily 
strove  to  solve  the  glittering  puzzle 
which  was  always  before  his  mind.  For 
some  reason  she  had  chosen  to  be  in- 
terested in  him;  the  fear  which  the 
recognition  of  this  interest  brought,  still 
disturbed,  but  no  longer  ruled  him; 
instead,  the  persistent  vision  of  her  face 
hypnotized  his  consciousness  into  a  de- 
licious subjection.  This  attitude  was  so 
strongly  felt  that  he  made  no  effort  to 
see  her,  but  waited  impatiently  for  her 
summons.  For  this  reason  he  had  gone 
every  night  to  the  opera,  expecting  and 
hoping  to  see  her,  but  a  passing  illness 
of  her  husband  kept  her  housed,  and  it 
was  only  on  the  last  night,  when  the 
lights  went  up  after  the  first  act,  that  he 
discovered  her  sitting  in  her  box  with 
General  Rivington  beside  her. 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  97 

She  was  dressed  very  simply  in  white, 
looking  like  a  girl  beside  her  gray- 
haired  husband,  and  at  the  moment  Ay- 
toun  saw  her,  was  sitting  a  little  lan- 
guidly, her  hands  laid  carelessly  in  her 
lap,  while  she  still  held  her  pre-occupied 
gaze  upon  the  fallen  curtain,  but  when 
in  obedience  to  the  communication  of 
Ay  toun's  gaze,  she  turned  and  recognized 
him,  he  thought  he  saw  a  permission 
for  him  to  join  her. 

Her  manner  was  very  simple  and 
sweet,  as  she  introduced  him  to  her  hus- 
band and  offered  him  a  seat.  He  was 
impressed  by  the  change  from  the  bril- 
liant aggressive  mood  in  which  he  had 
last  seen  her.  As  he  noted  the  shade 
of  melancholy  on  her  quiet  face,  the 
vision  of  her  lonely  youth  and  woman- 
hood seen  thus  in  this  glimpse  of  re- 
pose swept  over  him  with  a  feeling 
very  near  to  pity,  and  this  sadness 
and  the  womanly  sensitiveness  of  her 
mouth  stirred  him  even  more  deeply 

7 


98  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

than  the  victorious  gayety  of  her  former 
mood. 

Although  intensely  virile  in  will,  and 
in  the  vigorous  development  of  mind 
and  body,  Aytoun  possessed  something 
of  the  woman's  instinct,  an  almost  clair- 
voyant intuition,  the  common  founda- 
tion of  the  artistic  and  the  feminine 
natures.  In  a  moment  while  she  sat 
there  quite  simply,  her  clear  eyes  meet- 
ing his,  unclouded  with  any  preoccupa- 
tion or  thought  of  self,  the  riddle  was 
riddle  no  longer,  and  the  loneliness,  the 
beauty  and  the  sadness  of  her  soul  was 
revealed  to  him,  clear  as  a  limpid 
stream.  He  set  his  teeth  and  looked 
away.  General  Rivington  was  talking  to 
him,  speaking  cordially  of  his  pleasure 
in  seeing  a  friend  of  his  wife's.  Aytoun 
observed  how  brilliant  were  the  dark 
eyes,  how  erect  the  figure,  but  the  vigor 
had  left  his  voice,  which  was  dry,  but 
distinguished  in  its  modulation.  He 
questioned  Aytoun  about  the  painters 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  99 

of  his  own  day,  but  his  mind  had  suf- 
fered the  inevitable  crystallization  of 
old  age,  and  he  became  a  little  peremp- 
tory in  some  of  his  statements.  Aytoun 
was  compelled  to  parry  them  as  well  as 
he  could  to  escape  a  disagreement  with 
him,  and  then  he  thought  of  the  evi- 
dently hopeless  separation  between 
Helen's  mind  and  that  of  her  husband, 
and  of  the  courteous  consideration 
which  was  only  too  apparent  in  his 
manner  towards  his  wife.  "  So  this  is 
her  horizon,"  he  thought  to  himself, 
"  this  her  prison  house.  There  is  no 
escape  from  gratitude." 

Helen  did  not  attempt  to  turn  the 
conversation,  but  the  sadness  of  her  face 
took  on  a  deeper  shade,  and  Aytoun's 
comprehension  of  her  mind  became 
more  clearly  defined.  She  did  not  re- 
alize the  significance  of  this  passing 
mood.  There  are  many  revelations  in 
an  ebbing  tide. 

A  number  of  other  men  came  in,  with 


IOO  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

whom  Mrs.  Rivington  talked  in  a  per- 
functory manner,  but  as  she  motioned 
to  Aytoun  to  take  the  seat  directly  be- 
hind her,  they  soon  departed. 

And  then  the  lights  fell  again,  and 
the  music  filled  the  air  with  its  vibrat- 
ing waves,  inundating  Helen's  mind, 
answering,  subduing  and  expressing 
the  bitter  longings  of  her  empty  soul. 
Aytoun  sat  quietly  behind  her  in  silence 
his  mind,  which  was  filled  with  thoughts 
of  her,  unconsciously  communicating  its 
influence  to  hers  and  gradually  Helen 
become  conscious  of  this  thought  and 
was  vaguely  comforted.  They  spoke 
but  little,  but  a  delicious  sympathy, 
wordless  but  expressed  to  them  both  by 
the  music  which  surrounded  them  like 
an  ether,  merged  their  double  con- 
sciousness into  one. 

Just  in  front  of  him,  near,  almost  too 
near,  was  the  white  line  of  her  throat 
and  shoulder,  he  could  hear  the  quiet 
taking  of  her  breath  and  the  faint  per- 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  IOI 

fume  of  her  hair  made  his  heart  beat 
dumbly.  Scenes  succeeded  scenes,  one 
act  followed  another,  and  the  applause 
rose  and  lapsed  into  silence.  Helen 
knew  nothing,  but  this  strange  happi- 
ness which  was  rising  in  her  heart  like 
a  flood.  Aytoun  realized  nothing,  ex- 
cept this  new  understanding  of  her, 
which  was  absorbing  all  his  conscious- 
ness, and  which  under  the  appeal  of  her 
beauty  and  her  loneliness  strengthened 
into  a  tyrannical  impulse  of  possession. 
As  Helen  sat  there  so  near  to  him,  she 
felt  the  silent  command,  turned  away 
her  head,  and  set  her  whitening  lips, 
"No,  no,"  she  said  to  herself,  "I  will 
not  look  at  him,  I  dare  not." 

The  music  stopped,  her  husband  left 
them,  to  give  the  orders  for  the  carriage 
and  they  were  alone. 

Helen  moved  from  her  chair.  "Is  it 
over?"  she  asked  him  with  the  dazed 
look  of  one  awakening  from  a  dream. 

"No,   not   over,"   Aytoun    answered 


IO2  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

with  an  insistent  look,  "Only  just 
begun." 

"But  yes,  it  is  quite  over,"  she  re- 
peated, wilfully  ignoring  his  meaning  in 
the  tremor  of  her  new  born  fear.  "Will 
you  give  me  my  cloak?" 

Aytoun  put  it  over  her  shoulders,  and 
then  as  she  turned,  he  paused  deliber- 
ately in  the  half  darkness  and  looked 
down  upon  her  bended  head. 

There  was  a  moment  of  intolerable 
suspense  while  the  silence  laid  its  com- 
mands upon  them,  and  then  the  stronger 
will  was  victor,  and  Helen  threw  back 
her  head  and  looked  full  into  Aytoun's 
eyes,  meeting  there  a  look  of  worship, 
of  comprehension,  of  command,  and 
returning  her  confession  of  mingled  joy 
and  fear. 

Aytoun  was  satisfied. 


Chapter  VIII. 

[HE  days  which  followed  brought 
to  Helen  the  nearest  approach 
to  happiness  she  had  ever  known.  She 
saw  Aytoun  constantly,  and  the  impres- 
sion of  intimacy  strengthened  daily. 
He  never  permitted  her  to  feel  that  he 
had  forgotten  her,  and  there  were  no 
lapses  unaccounted  for.  They  had 
reached  that  delicious  period  of  friend- 
ship in  which  they  never  parted  without 
some  definite  arrangement  for  a  future 
meeting. 

When  Helen  awoke  in  the  morning, 
it  was  with  an  impression  of  beatitude 
as  if  from  some  blissful  drama  of  the 
night,  she  would  keep  her  eye-lids 
closed  to  prolong  the  moment  of  return- 
ing consciousness  with  its  dim  sugges- 
tion of  content,  before  she  awoke  to  the 
103 


IO4  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

knowledge  of  another  day  with  its  cer- 
tainty of  full  and  satisfying  pleasure. 
The  depressing  environment  of  her 
youth  and  the  negative  and  confining 
influences  of  her  marriage  had  never 
brought  her  anything  in  any  way  com- 
parable to  the  sense  of  mental  exhilara- 
tion which  she  daily  experienced  through 
association  with  Aytoun.  She  had, 
unnoticed  by  those  about  her,  a  pro- 
foundly curious  mind,  and  a  just  and 
exquisite  literary  taste.  It  was  an 
instant  and  irresistible  delight  to  her  to 
find  her  impressions  and  opinions  rati- 
fied by  the  agreement  of  Aytoun's  larger 
experience,  her  taste  justified  by  his 
approbation  and  sympathy. 

"Who  told  you  to  read  this  book,"  he 
asked  her  one  day,  picking  up  a  rare 
volume  of  the  poetry  of  a  young  French- 
man who  died  after  having  put  forth  a 
slender  book  of  strangely  beautiful 
verse,  whose  curious  sought-out  effects 
and  indefinable  charm,  made  his  work 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  10$ 

only  appreciated  by  a  very  few  of  those 
best  acquainted  with  the  symbolic  school 
of  writers,  which  arose  after  his  death. 

"I  don't  believe  there  is  another  vol- 
ume in  the  country — I  knew  him  well," 
he  said.  Then  he  told  her  of  the  man ; 
his  pitiable  ugliness,  the  exquisite  flavor 
of  his  mind,  his  early  death ;  and  Helen 
listened,  her  mind  closing  over  this  and 
other  treasures,  which  his  wider  exper- 
ience offered  her,  believing  that  in  the 
enjoyment  of  his  friendship  she  was  only 
obeying  the  demands  of  her  own  nature. 
By  force  of  the  extreme  distinction  of 
her  taste,  her  forms  of  expression  had  a 
peculiar  grace  and  almost  literary  value 
of  style,  which  he  was  the  first  to  recog- 
nize, remark  upon,  and  stimulate.  Every 
day  he  brought  to  her  tea  table  at  the 
hour  when  she  usually  received  him, 
some  book  difficult  to  find  which  he  had 
procured  for  her,  or  sketches  of  out  of 
the  way  places  where  he  had  found  a 
peculiar  individuality  or  charm. 


106  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

For  the  moment  they  were  both  con- 
tent. Aytoun  was  charmed  by  the 
finesse  of  this  mind  of  a  distinguished 
woman  such  as  he  had  never  known 
before,  held  in  willing  subjection  by 
the  loyal  directness  of  her  friendship 
and  responding  deeply  to  the  purity  and 
sweetness  of  her  character.  Her  wishes, 
her  wants,  became  every  day  clearer  and 
more  important  to  him,  and  in  observ- 
ing them  he  was  for  the  moment  satis- 
fied, and  to  them  both  the  impression  of 
these  days  of  their  growing  friendship 
was  one  of  almost  unbroken  quiet,  of  an 
enveloping  and  subduing  charm. 

Helen's  friends  found  the  new-comer 
attractive,  and  when  she  did  not  see  him 
quietly  at  her  own  house,  she  met  him 
at  small  dinners  and  parties  to  the  thea- 
tre, and  once  they  drove  out  into  the 
country  on  one  of  the  road-coaches, 
which  had  been  taken  by  Mrs.  Lindsay, 
and  lunched  at  a  club  house  with  a  party 
of  her  friends.  Together  they  reveled 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  IO/ 

in  the  glories  of  their  first  day  in  the 
open,  as  they  drove  along  among  the 
flowering  trees,  the  faint  blue  sky  and 
floating  clouds  of  spring  above  them 
amid  a  chorus  of  exulting  birds. 

In  June,  Helen  and  General  Rivington, 
somewhat  earlier  than  was  their  habit 
moved  to  Newport,  whither  Mrs.  Lind- 
say soon  followed  them,  and  as  she  had 
finally  decided  upon  her  portrait,  and 
it  was  as  yet  too  early  to  be  disturbed 
by  the  midsummer  season,  Aytoun  de- 
cided to  paint  it  there.  He  found  a 
room  in  a  little  farm  house  near  the 
sea,  and  there  established  his  studio. 

General  Rivington's  house  had  been 
built  before  the  time  of  marble  pal- 
aces, or  Queen  Anne  cottages.  Its 
massive  simplicity  was  softened  by  lux- 
uriant vines.  Within,  the  rooms  were 
large  and  of  a  stately  formality.  Helen 
had  wisely  refrained  from  any  attempt 
to  alter  or  modernize  them,  but  had 
softened  the  brilliancy  of  the  damasks 


IO8  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

and  bright  brocades  with  a  profusion  of 
plants  and  flowers.  She  had,  however, 
persuaded  her  husband  to  widen  the 
veranda  which  overlooked  the  sea  and 
there  under  its  broad  roof  she  had 
hung  swinging  Indian  seats,  and  ar- 
ranged screened  corners  where  she 
could  idly  watch  the  waves,  which  broke 
upon  the  rocks  below. 

General  Rivington  was  very  fond  of  his 
Newport  house,  but  it  was  his  custom  to 
spend  the  early  weeks  of  the  summer 
in  yachting  with  his  friends.  So  it 
happened  that  June  in  Newport  was  the 
quietest  month  of  Helen's  year.  She 
made  no  effort  to  anticipate  the  season, 
which  turns  the  inhabitants  of  the  beau- 
tiful still  city  by  the  sea  into  moon- 
maniacs  during  August,  but  abandoned 
herself  with  joy  to  the  reposeful  influ- 
ences of  the  embowering  trees,  the  blue 
and  sleeping  sea.  Sometimes  in  those 
lonely  weeks,  ths  beauty  which  sur- 
rounded her  seemed  almost  too  fair. 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  IOQ 

"  This  summer  for  once,"  she  thought 
blissfully,  "Spring  has  kept  its  prom- 
ises ; "  thus  her  happy  days  slipped  by 
her,  each  one  crystalline  and  magical, 
and  in  her  heart  was  the  song  of  birds. 

She  saw  Aytoun  every  day,  and  their 
friendship  seemed  at  last  to  have  found 
its  proper  setting.  Every  succeeding 
mood  found  its  natural  expression. 
Sometimes  when  life  was  vivid  and 
youth  was  with  them,  they  would  ride 
together  in  the  early  morning,  breath- 
ing the  salt  air  of  the  sea  which  floated 
to  them  mingled  with  the  perfumes  of 
the  gardens  luxurious  with  the  roses  of 
June.  Often  Helen  would  come  to  his 
studio  in  the  afternoon,  while  the  por- 
trait of  her  friend  was  being  painted. 

Unconsciously  to  herself,  Mrs.  Lind- 
say was  enjoying  the  free  atmosphere 
which  haunts  a  studio.  Bohemia,  the 
land  of  liberty,  waves  its  flag  wherever 
there  are  gathered  together  an  easel,  a 
palette  and  some  brushes.  Mrs.  Lind- 


IIO  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

say  would  smoke  her  cigarette  as  she 
posed,  gossiping  the  while  and  telling 
stories;  while  Helen,  speaking  little, 
would  watch  the  painting,  asking  Ay- 
toun  a  question  here  and  there,  delight- 
ing in  the  exhibition  of  a  fine  talent 
intent  on  its  work,  watching  the  con- 
centrated look  of  the  eyes,  the  swiftly 
moving  brushes,  the  rapid  and  myster- 
ious transfer  of  the  face  of  the  sitter 
with  its  elusive  individuality  to  the 
canvas. 

Aytoun  was  interested  in  his  subject, 
and  had  rendered  with  astonishing 
faithfulness  the  alert  sarcastic  expression 
of  Mrs.  Lindsay's  brilliant  dark  face. 
The  flexibility  of  the  slight  figure  was 
indicated  in  the  pose,  sinuous,  sug- 
gestive, daringly  original,  which  repre- 
sented her  body,  leaning,  almost  twisted, 
backward  in  the  chair,  the  wrists  cross- 
ing, the  small  feet  in  their  high-heeled 
shoes  crossed  also  and  pointed  sharply 
downward.  He  had  recognized  with 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  Ill 

joy  the  perfection  of  her  type,  and  had 
expressed  it  with  just  that  degree  of 
accentuation  necessary  to  reveal  a  per- 
sonality. The  dress  was  a  little  fan- 
tastic, yellow  with  a  curious  green 
embroidery,  some  black  about  the 
waist.  There  was  an  emerald  feather 
in  her  hair  and  emeralds  on  her  yellow 
shoes. 

There  she  was,  subtle,  daring,  ex- 
quisite, intensely  modern,  the  product 
of  her  passing  hour ;  as  brilliant  and 
as  brittle  as  a  butterfly. 

Aytoun  forgot  sometimes  that  he  was 
not  alone,  absorbed  completely  in  the 
excitement  of  his  work;  he  knew  that  he 
had  hit  the  right  note,  and  heard  in 
imagination  what  his  friends  would  say 
of  it.  He  smiled  to  himself  as  he 
worked. 

Helen  was  amused  at  her  friend's  at- 
titude before  Aytoun's  idea  of  her.  He 
knew  his  sitter  so  much  better  than  she 
knew  herself.  The  very  unmistakable 


112  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

and  individual  air  of  smartness  about 
her  pictured  self,  pleased  Mrs.  Lindsay 
evidently. 

"I  am  glad,"  she  would  say  as  she 
descended  from  the  platform  to  look 
curiously  at  the  picture,  "you  have  not 
made  me  out  a  milk-maid,"  and  then 
she  would  nearly  lose  her  temper  over 
Aytoun's  refusal  to  alter  at  her  sugges- 
tion, any  of  the  faults  of  her  face. 

"Faults,"  he  would  say  smiling,  turn- 
ing toward  her,  palette  in  hand,  "my 
dear  Mrs.  Lindsay,  they  are  the  most 
charming  things  about  you — if  it  were 
not  for  the  faults  in  people's  faces  I 
would  paint  no  more  portraits." 

Helen  looked  and  listened,  happier 
than  she  knew,  recognizing  the  expres- 
sion of  pride  and  power  which  he  had 
worn  before  in  the  gallery  with  his  pic- 
tures, and  woman-like  rejoicing  with  a 
thrill  of  intoxicating  pride  in  her 
knowledge  of  her  place  in  his  thoughts; 
and  she  admired  and  praised  him  none 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  113 

the  less  that  he  could  seem  to  forget 
her,  proud  to  see  her  slave  a  master. 
Sitting  in  the  corner  among  the  cush- 
ions of  a  broad  seat  by  an  open  win- 
dow, absorbed  and  fascinated,  she 
watched  from  beneath  her  dreaming 
eye-lids  the  beautiful  head  and  earnest 
face,  grateful  to  the  light  which  turned 
his  hair  to  gold  and  defined  the  pure 
line  of  his  throat. 

His  gestures  as  he  painted  were  un- 
consciously expressive.  Sometimes  he 
would  seem  to  wrestle  with  his  work, 
standing  firmly  before  it,  one  foot  ad- 
vanced, while  he  dealt  the  strokes  he 
meant  should  tell,  sometimes  he  ca- 
ressed it  with  soft  and  curving  touches. 
The  cruelty  of  the  curved  mouth  firmly 
set  in  the  absorption  of  his  work  fascin- 
ated and  vaguely  frightened  her.  "  How 
long,"  she  asked  herself  in  a  dumb 
whisper,  "  How  long  will  he  choose  to 
be  a  slave?" 

At  five  they  would  take  their  tea, 
8 


114  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

which  Aytoun  made  for  them  in  little 
Indian  cups,  and  they  would  sit  quietly 
awhile,  watching  the  long  sweep  of 
shore  and  sky  through  the  open  win- 
dow of  the  little  farm-house.  He  had 
hung  the  room  in  a  blue-green  stuff 
like  the  changeable  blue-green  of  the 
sea,  and  had  filled  large  jars  with  road- 
side flowers.  A  painted  Indian  table 
held  his  brushes  and  colors,  a  blue  haze 
of  cigarette  smoke  hung  in  the  air.  The 
little  house  was  on  the  very  edge  of  the 
water  far  away  from  the  town.  It  was 
cool,  detached  and  quiet.  Even  Mrs. 
Lindsay  forgot  her  restlessness  some- 
times, and  lapsed  into  a  reverie. 

One  day  when  the  portrait  was  nearly 
finished,  Helen  and  Mrs.  Lindsay  loi- 
tered a  little  over  their  tea,  and  a  sud- 
den rain  kept  them  until  the  room  was 
gray  with  twilight.  Mrs.  Lindsay  had 
been  chattering  merrily  all  the  after- 
noon, but  the  quiet  of  the  room,  the 
regular  wash  of  the  waves  on  the  beach 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  115 

beneath  them  had  calmed  her  into  si- 
lence. 

"Why  so  quiet?"  Helen  said,  re- 
marking her  unusual  mood. 

"Oh,  I  like  it  here,  it  rests  me;  I  for- 
get I  am  in  Newport,  it  does  me  good." 

"Do  you  want  to  forget  it?  You 
know  you  wouldn't  go  anywhere  else  in 
the  world." 

"Would  you?"  Mrs.  Lindsay  asked 
in  return. 

They  both  laughed. 

" There's  nowhere  else  to  go!"  said 
Mrs.  Lindsay. 

Aytoun  was  silent  for  a  moment  and 
did  not  attempt  to  join  in  the  conver- 
sation, but  looked  out  upon  the  water, 
livid  white  in  the  twilight,  upon  which 
the  rain  made  wavering  lines  like  an 
etching  upon  silver. 

It  had  turned  quite  cool,  and  he  had 
lighted  a  fire  in  the  chimney  which  cast 
a  flickering  glow  upon  the  white  dresses 
of  the  women.  Helen  was  sitting  in  her 


Il6  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

favorite  attitude  when  she  talked,  her 
head  thrown  back,  her  hands  clasped 
over  her  knees.  Mrs.  Lindsay,  lying 
back  in  a  deep  chair,  was  smoking. 
The  bright  point  of  her  cigarette  shone 
in  the  half  light. 

As  Aytoun  listened  to  their  voices  he 
experienced  an  unexpected  feeling  of 
detachment,  of  strangeness;  the  taste 
for  his  old  life  suddenly  recurred  to  him 
with  a  sharp  and  irresistible  appeal. 
"Oh,  yes!  they  were  interesting,  these 
people,  or  he  had  thought  them  so,  but 
they  were  unreal,  he  was  not  of  them." 

Mrs.  Lindsay's  clear,  high  voice,  with 
its  vibrant,  uncompromising  English, 
grated  upon  his  ears  perceptibly.  What 
a  curious  creature  she  was,  amusing, 
yes,  restless  and  fantastic;  yet  Helen 
understood  her,  was  agreeing  with  her. 
Newport,  indeed!  He  recalled  the  daily 
pageant  with  its  varying  scenes,  the 
gathering  at  the  Casino,  the  beauty  of 
the  women,  the  brutality  of  their  veiled 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  117 

and  dainty  insolence,  the  staring  imper- 
tinence of  the  men;  the  utter  aimless- 
ness,  the  destroying  inactivity  of  the 
brain  expressed  in  their  faces,  set  with 
the  grim  endurance  of  unending  noth- 
ingness, astonished  him.  And  they 
said  there  was  no  other  place;  good 
heavens!  no  other  place  1  Mrs.  Lind- 
say said  that,  yes  —  but  Helen  was 
agreeing  with  her.  How  could  she? 
His  eyes  dwelt  on  her  face,  the  low  pure 
brow,  fair  as  a  pearl  in  the  dim  light, 
the  poetic  beauty  of  her  eyes,  the  re- 
fined spirituality  of  her  face,  and  a  feel- 
ing of  irritation,  of  dumb  anger,  against 
this  something  in  her  he  could  not 
understand,  took  possession  of  him.  He 
had  a  sensation  as  of  a  veil  suddenly 
dropped  between  them. 

"  It  is  degrading,"  Helen  continued, 
lightly  laughing.  "  What  do  you  think 
I  heard  to-day?  Susie  Bertram  has  not 
invited  Mrs.  de  Courcy  to  her  ball,  and 
she  is  furious  of  course.  They  have 


Il8  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

been  intimate  friends  ever  since  I've 
known  them.  That  will  be  another 
quarrel,  I  suppose,  and  quarrels  are  such 
bores." 

"  Not  so  very  angry,"  said  Mrs.  Lind- 
say. "  I  saw  her  talking  to  Susie  this 
morning  with  her  sweetest  smile.  I 
wondered  what  was  the  matter." 

"  It  won't  do  any  good,"  said  Helen; 
"  there  is  only  one  way  possible  to  make 
your  place  quite  sure,  and  that  is  to  give 
balls,  and  leave  out  half  your  friends  — 
then  they  will  not  dare  to  treat  you  so 
themselves." 

"  Mrs.  Bertram  has  certainly  found 
that  plan  successful,  I  must  admit,  par- 
ticularly as  it  seems  to  have  been  her 
own  invention  —  she  may  well  be  proud 
of  it." 

"What  a  dreadful  time  that  pretty 
little  Mrs.  Perkins  is  having,"  Helen 
continued.  "She  looked  quite  pale 
this  morning.  No  one  has  spoken  to 
her  yet  that  I  know  of." 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  IIQ 

"  Nothing  in  the  world  against  her  I 
suppose,"  asked  Mrs.  Lindsay. 

"Oh,  no,  only  that  no  one  knows  her, 
and,  therefore,  no  one  will." 

"I  wonder  how  long  she  will  stay?" 

44  For  good,  my  dear,"  said  Helen. 
"  She  is  very  rich  and  I  believe  clever. 
Besides  I  saw  Tom  Gary  walking  with 
her  near  the  beach  yesterday.  She  will 
be  all  right  next  year." 

"  No,  not  next  year — in  two  perhaps." 

"  What  a  place  it  is  !  "  Helen  contin- 
ued, "  it  really  is  demoralizing.  I 
don't  think  my  character  can  bear  more 
than  one  summer  of  it." 

41  It  has  been  all  over  with  mine  for 
some  time,"  laughed  Mrs.  Lindsay.  "I 
can  stay  till  the  end  of  my  days." 

41  No,  not  quite  over,"  said  Helen. 
41 1  must  be  truthful  if  you  are  not 
when  you  persist  in  denying  that  you 
have  a  heart  somewhere  concealed 
under  your  chiffons  —  I  have  not  for- 
gotten,"— 


I2O  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

"  Hush,"  cried  Mrs.  Lindsay,  "  I  have 
forgotten  my  feelings.  They  are  left 
behind  in  town,  along  with  my  winter 
furs.  There  is  no  use  for  them  here." 

They  both  laughed,  and  there  was  a 
little  pause,  in  which  Helen  poured  her- 
self a  second  cup  of  tea,  and  Mrs.  Lind- 
say lighted  another  cigarette. 

"  I  overheard  a  couple  of  boys  talking 
to-day,"  Helen  went  on,  "  at  the  Casino. 
Kate  de  Courcy's  young  brother  and 
a  friend,  evidently  a  stranger,  who 
was  almost  crying.  '  I  have  just  seen 
the  only  woman  I  have  ever  loved,' 
he  said,  'and  she  didn't  even  bow 
to  me.'" 

" Poor  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsay;  "he 
doesn't  know  his  Newport." 

"And  it  is  so  beautiful,"  said  Helen, 
"  How  can  we  be  wicked  in  so  heavenly 
a  place  ?  " 

"Wicked  !"  replied  her  friend,  "that 
is  the  one  thing  I  think  we  are  not." 

"  And  yet  we  are  both  luxurious  and 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  121 

idle.  The  other  will  come  soon  no 
doubt." 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsay, 
"but  now  —  what  is  the  reason,  I 
wonder  !"  She  turned  to  Aytoun,  who 
was  standing  by  the  window,  looking 
out  upon  the  water  in  a  melancholy  ab- 
straction. "Come  tell  us  what  you 
think,  Mr.  Aytoun  ?  What  makes  us  so 
supernaturally  good  ?  " 

Ayioun  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
looked  down  at  her  in  her  dainty  dress, 
as  she  blew  the  smoke  idly  from  her 
little  red  lips. 

"Why  good?"  he  said;  "because 
you  are  so  pleased  with  your  new  toys, 
that  you  are  not  yet  crying  for  other 
ones." 

"You  mean,"  said  Helen,  speaking 
seriously,  "that  when  we  are  used  to 
wealth  and  luxury,  and  they  become  a 
habit,  that  we  shall  seek  for  more  dan- 
gerous playthings  ?  " 

"Yes,  precisely,"  Aytoun  replied,  "I 


122  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

do.  But  it  may  not  be  very  soon,  not  until 
your  fortunes  become  more  permanent. 
Wall  street  is  better  for  the  morality  of 
the  country  than  the  churches;  a  better 
leveller  than  democracy  or  death.  At 
present  with  the  luxury  of  Pompeii  you 
have — "  he  hesitated  a  moment. 

"The  morality  of  Plymouth  Rock/' 
said  Helen,  rising  and  looking  out  of 
the  window.  "It  has  stopped  raining," 
she  said.  "Come  Kate,  you  daughter 
of  the  Puritans,  no  more  cigarettes. 
We  must  go." 

Aytoun  opened  the  door,  put  them 
in  their  carriage,  and  watched  them 
moodily  as  they  drove  off  under  the 
dripping  trees. 


Chapter  IX. 
ft 

|ITH  the  beginning  of  July  and 
the  more  insistent  demands  of 
her  outward  life,  Helen's  companionship 
with  Aytoun  was  somewhat  interrupted, 
and  the  impression  of  unbroken  com- 
radeship was  succeeded  by  a  strange  al- 
ternation of  sympathy  and  detachment, 
which  tortured  and  perplexed  him.  The 
extraordinary  emancipation  of  Helen's 
mind  which  by  force  of  very  wide  read- 
ing had  in  some  directions  traveled  far- 
ther in  imagination  than  his  in  fact,  had 
given  her  a  very  remarkable  breadth  of 
view  and  an  accuracy  of  judgment  as 
unusual  in  a  woman  as  it  was  delightful. 
He  frequently  appealed  to  the  exquisite 
justness  of  her  taste  during  the  painting 
of  his  pictures  and  their  conversations 
often  assumed  the  character  of  a  consul- 
ts 


124  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

tation  of  confreres,  when  they  would 
almost  forget  each  other  in  the  excite- 
ment of  their  subject,  and  he  would  ask 
himself  how  it  had  been  possible  for 
such  utterly  different  lives  to  have 
brought  them  thus  together,  sharing  in- 
tellectually an  almost  identical  point  of 
view.  Then  the  sight  of  her  punctil- 
ious observance  of  some  empty  form, 
her  sacrifice  of  hours  of  possible  com- 
panionship for  some  smart  social  func- 
tion exasperated  him.  Her  loneliness, 
the  innate  sadness  of  her  mind,  which 
he  realized  had  been  fully  revealed  to 
him  alone,  appealed  to  his  pity,  and 
what  seemed  to  him  a  willful  and  des- 
tructive waste  of  a  nature  which  he 
knew  to  be  filled  with  the  sadness  of 
humanity,  the  palpitating  poetry  of  life, 
cast  him  into  fits  of  angry  despair.  This 
grew,  and  became  with  his  increasing 
passion  for  her  beauty,  a  torturing  ob- 
session. During  his  walks  by  the 
cliffs,  lost  in  the  evening  mists,  or  alone 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  125 

in  his  studio,  he  sought  continually  to 
analyze  her  mysterious  nature,  to  define 
this  strange  soul  of  a  woman,  this 
mixture  of  intelligence  and  inexpe- 
rience of  emancipated  fancy,  of  captive 
will,  of  outward  gayety,  of  secret  mel- 
ancholy. There  had  been  no  such  tor- 
menting perplexity  in  her  character  as 
he  had  known  it  in  those  early  days  in 
New  York,  or  afterwards  in  the  first 
weeks  of  the  summer  at  Newport.  Since 
the  pre-occupations  of  her  outward  life 
had  begun  to  claim  her  time,  she  seemed 
to  him  to  have  become  quite  another 
person.  There  were  times  when  the 
scant  courtesy  she  showed  him,  when  he 
met  her  at  the  Casino,  on  the  Polo  field 
among  her  friends,  or  in  some  ball 
room  he  had  invaded  led  by  his  desire 
to  see  her,  infuriated  him.  Then  the 
haunting  shyness  and  suspicion  of  his 
nature  would  return  with  the  unbeara- 
ble thought  that  after  all  he  might  be 
but  a  plaything  for  her  idle  hours. 


126  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

Helen  could  hardly  have  explained  to 
herself  why  she  wished  no  longer  to  see 
him  in  the  world.  She  did  not  realize 
her  own  ungentleness,  she  only  felt  that 
she  wanted  him  for  herself,  and  found 
it  impossible  to  talk  with  him,  except 
when  they  were  alone.  But  to  him  the 
sight  of  her,  talking,  laughing,  dancing 
with  these  people,  as  if  she  were  one  of 
them,  was  intolerable.  Sometimes  his 
anger  would  reach  the  point  of  a  deci- 
sion to  leave  her  and  Newport  together. 
Then  a  note  would  come  summoning 
him  to  some  long  walk,  or  to  dine  with 
her  alone,  when  they  would  pass  hours 
of  the  most  perfect  sympathy,  weaving 
closer  than  ever  the  web  of  association 
and  memory  which  bound  them,  and 
she  would  seem  to  rejoice  more  than 
ever  in  the  intellectual  freedom  of  their 
companionship,  finding  an  ever  keener 
pleasure  in  speaking  without  subterfuge 
or  convention.  Sometime  they  would 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  127 

pass  hours  in  the  dusk,  watching  the 
flickering  pathway  of  the  moon  upon 
the  water,  in  delicious  desultory  talk, 
when  scraps  of  remembered  verse  and 
parallel  impressions  gathered  from  their 
different  lives  would  rise  to  their  lips. 
Sometimes  they  would  go  back  to  the 
time  of  their  childhood  and  the  years 
when  they  had  known  each  other  first, 
dwelling  with  interest  upon  every  small- 
est treasure  of  their  recollection.  Some- 
times they  would  speak  in  French,  the 
language  in  which  Helen  felt  she  knew 
him  best,  talking  softly  to  each  other 
with  the  delicious  familiarity  of  a  friend- 
ship the  most  perfect  of  their  lives,  and 
Aytoun  would  forget  the  passing  mo- 
ments of  separation  from  her,  his  anger 
and  distrust. 

"A  mystery,"  he  said  to  her  one  day, 
"you  are  a  lovely  mystery.  I  am  seek- 
ing for  your  definition.  Sometimes  I 
think  I  have  you,  and  then  you  turn 


128  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

another  face,  and  I  must  begin  all  over 
again.  Never  mind  some  day  I  shall 
have  you,  tight  clasped  —  in  a  formula." 

Then  she  laughed  and  replied  that 
she  was  a  riddle  not  worth  the  solving ; 
that  she  did  not  understand  herself. 

He  would  chide  her  sometimes  for 
the  waste  of  her  talents.  She  had  in- 
deed a  lovely  deep  voice,  untrained, 
irregular,  of  a  haunting  quality.  "  You 
could  sing,"  he  would  say.  "  Write  too, 
I  think,  if  you  would  try."  And  she 
would  listen  meditatively,  happily,  real- 
izing the  clearer  development  of  her 
mind,  its  growing  capacity  for  impres- 
sions with  a  rising  impulse,  but  dimly 
felt  before,  to  express  herself.  And 
daily  her  beauty  brightened  into  un- 
wonted brilliancy  and  expressed  itself 
in  the  softened  grace  and  languor  of 
her  attitudes. 

She  never  for  a  moment  left  Aytoun's 
thoughts,  which  were  set  invincibly  in 
the  one  direction.  By  day,  he  thought 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  I2Q 

of  her,  but  by  night,  her  eyes  haunted 
him,  and  he  could  only  dream. 

One  night  Helen  arranged  a  party  to 
sail  across  the  bay,  in  a  little  launch  her 
husband  had  given  her  the  summer 
before  to  satisfy  a  whim  she  had  of 
spending  long  hours  of  solitude  upon 
the  water.  She  had  invited  Mrs.  Lind- 
say and  her  husband,  who  was  paying 
his  wife  a  brief  visit  in  Newport,  and  the 
Bertrams  who  were  staying  with  them. 
It  was  understood  that  the  boat  should 
leave  them  at  the  landing  at  the  foot  of 
the  hill  overlooking  the  bay  on  which 
Mrs.  Lindsay's  new  house  had  been 
built.  Helen  had  asked  Aytoun  to  join 
them.  They  all  dined  together  early, 
and  then  after  a  short  drive  through  the 
dusk  of  the  wooded  streets  from  Helen's 
house  to  the  wharf,  they  set  out  across 
the  bay. 

It  was  dark  at  first  before  the  moon 
arose,  and  although  they  talked  together 
merrily  for  a  while,  the  subduing  influ- 
9 


I3O  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

ence  of  the  softly  enveloping  night  took 
possession  of  them,  and  they  soon  separ- 
ated, settling  themselves  with  rugs  and 
cushions  in  different  parts  of  the  boat. 
Aytoun  and  Helen,  who  were  left  alone 
in  the  stern,  could  hear  the  murmur  of 
their  voices  and  see  the  gleam  of  a  light 
dress  in  the  darkness,  and  the  glowing 
tips  of  the  men's  cigars. 

It  was  very  still,  there  was  no  sound 
but  the  gentle  lapping  of  the  water 
which  gleamed  blackly  around  them  like 
a  mirror  of  tarnished  silver.  The  lights 
of  the  town  shone  dimly  in  the  distance, 
and  a  scarcely  perceptible  breeze  blew 
softly  about  their  faces.  They  were  dis- 
cussing the  old  topic,  trying  to  deter- 
mine once  more  that  invisible  boundary 
which  divides  the  good  from  evil  in 
human  affection.  They  were  laughing 
lightly,  dreading  to  apply  their  floating 
metaphors  and  fancies  to  themselves. 

"The  reward  is  for  those  who  believe 
in  the  good,"  said  Helen,  "and  do  not 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  13! 

look  for  evil.  We  find  what  we  seek  for 
after  all." 

"Not  lack  of  belief,"  Aytoun  replied, 
"but  of  reason.  Blessed  are  those  who 
can  see.  It  is  all  black  and  white  with 
most  people.  They  cannot  see  that 
delicious  country  which  lies  between,  a 
paradise  of  pearl  gray,  such  a  happy 
country !  don't  you  think  so,  chere  antie? 

"What  would  you  call  it?"  asked 
Helen.  "Not  all  spirit,  not  all  mind. 
That  country  is  too  near  the  heart." 

"Bounded  by  the  equator,  we  will 
say,  lit,  but  not  burned,  by  the  sun,  the 
lower  latitudes  of  the  soul.  Shall  we 
survey  it?" 

"Not  to  the  end,  I  fear,"  she  answered 
sadly. 

"Not  to  the  end?  Come,  answer 
truly.  Think  of  the  great  friendships 
of  the  world.  Would  George  Sand 
have  been  George  Sand  without  Alfred 
de  Musset  and  Chopin  ?" 

She  thought  a  moment. 


132  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

"No,"  she  said,  "I  do  not  think  she 
would." 

"Ah,"  he  exclaimed,  "you  are  brave 
enough  to  admit  it.  Is  there  a  different 
law  for  others  less  great  than  she." 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  answered.  "I 
cannot  think  it  out.  I  can  only  feel 
that  the  best  rule  for  all  of  us  is  to  be 
loyal  to  our  own  type ;  to  avoid  anything 
which  seems  to  us  destructive — besides, 
the  world  has  grown  older  since  that 
tropic  noon  day  in  which  she  lived, 
wiser,  too,  I  think." 

"Grown  older,  dear," — the  word 
dropped  unconsciously  from  his  lips — 
"but  not  outgrown  the  essence  of  its 
life,  not  old  enough  to  repeal  its  own 
laws — you  have  everything  on  your  side 
but  Nature." 

"Nature,"  said  Helen,  "is  made  to  be 
subdued ;  there  is  more  joy  in  victory 
than  in  defeat." 

Aytoun  looked  at  her  curiously,  half 
doubting,  half  believing. 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  133 

She  turned  towards  him  impulsively. 
"Ah,"  she  said,  "I  know  what  you 
would  say,  but  listen — friendship,  sym- 
pathy, sentiment,  call  it  what  you  will,  is 
the  very  soul  of  all  human  relationships, 
of  parent  and  child,  sister  and  brother, 
husband  and  wife,  even  of  lovers  in 
their  madness.  Without  it  all  the  rela- 
tions of  family  are  a  grinding  chain,  and 
love  itself  a  degradation." 

Long  afterwards,  when  many  disillu- 
sionments  and  the  sadness  of  departed 
youth  had  dimmed  his  memories,  Aytoun 
could  hear  the  earnest  accents  of  her 
voice  coming  to  him  out  of  the  night, 
could  hear  once  more  the  quiet  murmur 
of  the  sea,  the  voice  of  the  sighing 
breeze. 

"Love,"  she  said,  and  the  word  fell 
slowly,  reverently  from  her  lips,  "one 
word !  our  language  is  too  poor,  only 
one,  for  feelings  as  remote  as  the  very 
essences  of  good  and  evil.  It  is  the  cause 
of  most  of  the  tragedies  of  this  world." 


134  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

"Who  shall  express  it?"  he  said, 
wondering  at  her  wisdom,  and  gazing 
through  the  dim  star  light  at  her  face. 
Now  at  last  her  words  seemed  to  ex- 
press the  thoughts  there  written  and 
her  lips  to  answer  to  those  dreaming 
eyes. 

The  sweet  voice  went  on. 

"Passion,"  she  said,  "the  desire  of 
self,  I  have  seen  it,  but  never  quite 
understood  it.  One-half  of  the  great 
circle  of  emotions  which  are  all  called 
Love,  it  is  the  last  with  us  if,  indeed,  we 
ever  traverse  it,  it  is  the  first  with  you; 
but  the  other  half,  how  many  know  it ; 
when  we  love  to  love  instead  of  to  be 
loved,  and  when  self  dies.  Do  you 
understand  it?" 

"I  think  so,"  he  slowly  answered.  "I 
will  try." 

"That  love,  I  believe,"  and  she  spoke 
quite  clearly  now  and  firmly,  "is  a 
flower  which  bears  no  poison  in  its  pet- 
als, we  may  gather  and  wear  it  any- 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  13$ 

where  and  any  time  with  tears  of  grati- 
tude." 

The  young  moon  had  risen  at  last 
and  hung  like  a  silver  feather  in  the 
sky,  a  sudden  mist  obscured  the  shore, 
and  light  clouds  floated  among  the 
stars.  As  Helen  and  Aytoun  were  borne 
noiselessly  along,  in  their  light  vessel 
through  the  still  water,  they  could  see 
the  stars  and  clouds  reflected  in  its 
placid  surface,  while  the  mist  which 
hung  over  the  shore,  obscuring  every 
semblance  of  the  earth,  seemed  to  float 
like  the  clouds,  and  the  reflected  stars 
to  be  the  sisters  of  those  above.  Stand- 
ing in  the  stern  of  the  boat,  they  seemed 
themselves  to  be  borne  through  space, 
and  lost  for  a  moment  consciousness 
of  earthly  things.  Next  Aytoun  was 
Helen's  face  in  its  pale  beauty,  her  eyes 
shining  strangely,  filled  with  the  mys- 
tery of  the  night. 

"Ah,  I  do  understand!"  he  said  de- 
voutly. 


136  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

They  turned  to  one  another  with  a 
long  look  of  exceeding  peace,  and  to 
Helen  the  mists  through  which  she  sailed 
were  the  very  essence  of  her  life- long 
dream. 

The  moon  rose  higher  and  it  grew 
late.  Helen  left  her  guests  at  the  land- 
ing place,  whence  they  departed  with 
the  laughter  and  the  words  of  their 
good-night  breaking  clearly  upon  the 
silence,  and  with  the  flutter  of  lace 
skirts  in  the  lights  streaming  through 
the  windows,  and  then  the  boat  went  on 
and  Aytoun  and  Helen  were  left  alone. 

The  silence  surrrounded  them  with 
its  compelling  charm  and  the  magic  of 
the  night  once  more  enfolded  them. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  barrier,  no  dis- 
tance between  them  in  this  mysterious 
intimacy  of  the  soul.  Helen  had  a 
strange  impression  as  of  a  wandering 
far  within  endless  undiscovered  caves. 
They  spoke  each  other's  thoughts  and 
trembled  as  they  did  so.  Perhaps  they 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  137 

knew  it  could  not  last.  But  for  the 
moment  the  great  angels  of  love  and 
death  hovered  over  them  and  touched 
them  not,  enwrapping  them  only  with 
the  dim  sense  of  the  mortality  of  their 
joy,  which  was  to  them  as  the  passing 
fragrance  of  a  flower,  the  resolving 
rhythms  of  a  song,  presaging  silence; 
but  for  the  moment  they  were  together 
— on  the  sea,  among  the  stars!  alone. 

"How  have  I  lived  so  long  without 
you?"  he  asked  her  passionately. 

Her  eyes  shone  strangely  near  him, 
he  looked  once  more,  a  sudden  madness 
swept  over  his  senses;  slowly  he  bent 
toward  those  mysterious  eyes,  so  long 
the  comrades  of  his  dreams.  They  did 
not  turn  away  and  suddenly  his  lips  met 
hers  in  a  long  moment  of  mortal  sweet- 
ness, of  ecstasy  which  seemed  like 
death. 

The  sweet  eyes  closed,  and  Helen 
half  unconscious  sank  upon  her  knees 
by  the  side  of  the  boat. 


138  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

"Helen,  Helen,"  he  begged  her 
wildly,  "Oh,  forgive  me!" 

But  as  he  said  it,  and  as  she  listened 
through  the  dimness  of  her  fainting 
senses,  they  knew  their  dream  was  over, 
their  happiness  was  dead. 


Chapter  X. 


|HEN  Aytoun  went  to  see  Mrs. 
Rivington  the  next  day,  she  re- 
fused to  see  him.  She  kept  an  engage- 
ment for  a  dinner  which  she  had  made 
some  weeks  before,  mechanically  answer- 
ing the  questions  her  neighbor  put  to 
her,  seeing  the  lights  flicker  before  her 
eyes  with  a  sense  of  painful  unreality, 
and  then  came  home  as  early  as  she 
could,  longing  to  be  alone. 

She  found  a  note  from  Aytoun  on 
her  return,  and  took  it  with  her  to  her 
room. 

All  day  the  whirl  of  emotion  had 
been  so  blinding  that  she  scarcely  knew 
whether  it  was  joy  or  pain  which  she 
was  enduring.  She  had  only  the  sensa- 
tion of  having  suddenly  been  drawn 
into  the  rapids,  of  losing  her  foot-hold, 
139 


I4O  A  SAWDUST   DOLL. 

but  her  mind,  which  was  usually  so  clear, 
and  detached,  so  capable  of  reflective 
comment  upon  her  own  thoughts  and  ac- 
tions warned  her  that  she  would  soon  be 
compelled  to  be  the  inexorable  judge  of 
herself,  to  issue  the  decree  of  her  future 
in  the  court  of  her  own  soul. 

Sitting  alone  with  Aytoun's  letter  be- 
fore her,  she  knew  that  the  moment  of 
decision  had  come.  She  read  and  re- 
read it,  pausing  over  every  word. 

"  You  have  refused  to  see  me,"  it  began, 
"  I  cannot  pretend  to  be  surprised,  and  yet 
I  must  make  one  appeal  to  your  mercy.  I 
have  spent  the  night  and  day  in  a  strange 
torment  of  ecstasy  and  utter  misery. 

•'  I  need  not  protest,  but  you  know  that  I 
am  wholly  yours,  to  do  with  as  you  choose. 

"It  is  inconceivable  to  me  that  I  should 
ever  do  anything  to  cause  you  an  instant's 
pain,  and  if  that  moment  which  fills  my 
whole  soul  with  its  glory  must  be  the  only 
such  in  my  life's  history  —  let  it  be  so  — I 
will  bridle  my  tongue  also  and  only  speak 
to  you  as  I  have  done  hitherto,  as  to  my  best 
and  dearest  friend,  only,  I  implore  you,  do 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  14! 

not  send  me  out  of  your  life.  I  can  scarcely 
breathe  since  I  left  your  door  this  afternoon 
for  fear  of  what  that  white,  stern  soul  of 
yours  is  thinking.  Try  to  trust  me,  dearest; 
believe  in  me. 

"  I  must  wait  all  through  this  night  before 
I  can  hope  for  a  word.  For  God's  sake  do 
not  delay."  P.  A. 

It  was  very  still,  the  stillness  of  mid- 
night. All  the  lights  were  extinguished 
except  Helen's  one  lamp,  which  shone 
out  upon  the  soft  darkness  of  the  en- 
circling trees.  She  looked  about  her 
room.  The  familiar  objects  seemed  to 
be  conscious  of  the  part  they  were  play- 
ing in  her  history,  the  silence  and  the 
shadows  were  full  of  the  meaning  of 
the  moments  as  they  passed;  a  mild  air 
from  the  sea  blew  in  through  the  win- 
dow, and  stirred  the  loose  hair  upon 
her  brow.  She  bent  over  her  desk  and 
laid  her  cheek  upon  the  letter,  her 
heart  filled  with  a  rising  tide  of  joy, 
which  overflowed  in  broken  words  of 
tenderness  from  her  lips.  She  was 


142  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

proud  of  every  precious  word,  and  the 
knowledge  of  his  love,  this  love  for  the 
first  time  so  passionately  desired,  sank 
into  the  empty  places  in  her  deepest 
heart.  So  she  sat,  her  eyes  closed,  her 
face  upon  the  letter  in  a  trance  of  joy, 
not  forgetting,  not  unconscious  of  the 
persistent  reasoning  self  she  knew  would 
claim  her  soon,  granting  to  her  heart  a 
brief  respite,  a  fleeting  moment  of 
breath,  of  life,  of  happiness,  and  as  she 
sat  there  motionless,  the  mysterious 
sounds  of  the  night,  the  faint  rustling 
of  the  leaves,  the  minute,  unnamable 
stirs  and  murmurs  in  the  deep  stillness 
made  little  ineffaceable  marks  upon  her 
consciousness. 

She  rose  and  began  to  walk  up  and 
down  the  length  of  her  room,  her  hands 
clasped  behind  her.  Gradually  her 
brain  became  clear,  and  with  her  active 
consciousness  she  began  to  suffer  cru- 
elly. She  tried  to  think  it  out,  to  de- 
fine to  herself  just  where  she  stood,  and 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  143 

every  step  she  took  in  the  path  her  rea- 
son led  her,  brought  to  her  a  torture 
she  had  never  before  imagined.  In  the 
solitude  of  the  night  she  stood  at  last 
face  to  face  with  that  unveiled  tragedy 
of  life  which  she  had  escaped  till  now. 
Feeling  it  in  her  deepest  soul,  she  had 
persisted  in  her  attitude  of  aloofness, 
still  denied  that  life  was  serious,  or  held 
realities  of  commanding  joy  or  of  cor- 
roding inescapable  agony;  but  now  the 
vision  was  before  her,  she  could  not 
escape  it,  and  the  way  in  which  it 
touched  her,  arresting  her  steps,  com- 
manding her  to  silence,  was  in  her 
hopeless  inability  to  force  her  mind 
over  the  barrier  which  stood  between 
herself  and  happiness.  She  could  not 
make  it  right.  Unconsciously  now,  she 
continued  her  walk  up  and  down  her 
room,  pressing  her  temples  with  her 
clasped  hands,  wringing  them  some 
times  unconsciously  in  her  fight  with 
herself.  Deeply  imbedded  in  the  very 


144  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

foundations  of  her  nature,  her  intro- 
spective mind  discovered  an  unconquer- 
able, ineradicable  revolt  against  the  de- 
sire of  continuing  this  friendship  which 
was  friendship  no  longer.  Her  gratitude 
for  her  husband's  care  of  her,  which  had 
protected  her  from  misfortune  and  sur- 
rounded her  with  indulgence  and  lux- 
ury, bound  her  struggling,  sighing, 
weeping  with  an  unbreakable  chain,  and 
her  stainless  sense  of  personal  honor 
blazed  with  a  tyrannical  demand  for 
obedience  like  the  sword  of  the  angel 
before  the  gate  of  her  paradise.  If  her 
high  belief  in  the  perfectibility  of 
human  friendship  had  led  her  rejoicing 
through  the  first  stages  of  her  happy 
journey,  her  strict  detached  intelligence 
told  her  exactly  where  she  had  finally 
arrived,  and  the  completeness  and  per- 
fection of  this  friendship  warned  her 
that  the  passion  into  which  it  was  merg- 
ing was  a  like  full  orbed,  perfect  and 
tyrannical.  In  vain  she  tried  to  per- 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  145 

suade  herself  that  she  could  forget  the 
kiss  which  had  waked  them  from  their 
dreams,  this  one  sin  which  had  barred 
the  gates  against  them.  She  tried  to 
cheat  her  mind  with  sophistries,  to  lull 
it  to  sleep  with  fancies,  "  A  rose  may 
close  and  be  a  bud  again,"  she  thought; 
"  it  shall.  We  will  forget  this  one,  sad 
error,  ignore  it,  be  only  friends  again. 
If  we  try,  we  can;  surely  such  a  friend- 
ship is  worth  some  sacrifice ! "  Then 
the  sinking  ecstasy  of  that  remembered 
moment  would  return,  thrilling  with 
sudden  pain  to  the  very  tips  of  her  fing- 
ers, and  her  eyes  would  close  while  the 
feeling  of  death-like  faintness  dimmed 
her  brain.  Then  she  would  wake  once 
more  to  her  suffering,  to  the  bitter,  irre- 
vocable truth.  She  saw  that  she  could 
no  longer  misname  this  blissful  friend- 
ship which  had  absorbed  her  heart  and 
mind  for  all  those  happy  months.  It  was 
love,  she  knew — "  love,"  she  whispered 
breathlessly  to  her  solitude.  If  she  had 
10 


146  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

loved  him  less,  or  loved  before,  the  de- 
cision of  those  midnight  hours  might 
have  been  otherwise,  but  struggle,  weep 
as  she  might,  she  could  only  see  that 
love  had  come  —  and  come  too  late. 

Sometimes  the  weakness  of  her  grief 
would  overcome  her,  and  she  would 
sink  upon  her  bed  and  weep  her  heart 
out,  but  never  for  one  moment  could 
she  deceive  herself  into  believing  that 
she  had  the  smallest  right  to  see  Aytoun 
again,  to  take  one  step  further  in  this 
path  now  that  she  knew  where  it  was 
leading. 

Did  Helen  know  quite  what  she  was 
doing  in  giving  stern  refusal  to  her 
desire  for  happiness  ?  Perhaps  not. 
She  was  unversed  in  pain,  and  had  only 
just  begun  her  journey  of  sorrow.  She 
was  only  answering  as  a  ship  answers  its 
helm,  to  the  invincible  principle  which 
governed  her  nature. 

When  the  morning  came,  the  strug- 
gle of  her  soul  which  had  swayed  all 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  147 

night  between  the  two  opposing  forces 
of  the  moral  world,  'twixt  duty  and  de- 
sire, was  over.  She  wrote  mechanically 
a  note  of  farewell  to  Aytoun,  short, 
almost  cruel  in  its  brevity,  expressing 
scarcely  a  trace  of  the  agony  she  had 
traversed,  and  then  she  threw  herself 
upon  her  bed,  and  fell  into  the  deep 
sleep  of  physical  exhaustion. 

The  days  which  followed  brought 
Helen  no  respite  from  her  pain.  The 
strain  of  thought  fixed  invincibly  upon 
the  one  point  of  suffering,  and  resolve 
did  not  for  one  moment  relax  its  hold. 
In  all  the  outward  actions  of  her  life, 
when  she  spoke  of  other  things,  when 
she  heard  almost  with  a  feeling  of 
mockery  the  sound  of  her  own  light 
words  and  laughter,  this  deep  preoccu- 
pation persisted  with  its  imperious  com- 
mand of  pain.  At  night  the  attitude  of 
her  enslaved  and  tortured  brain  re- 
mained unchanged,  for  when  she  awoke 


148  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

she  was  conscious  of  no  break  in  her 
thoughts,  and  the  name  which  in  despair 
or  love  had  left  her  lips  in  the  night's 
solitude  when  sleep  finally  claimed  her, 
seemed  to  float  above  them  when  she 
awoke.  The  grip  of  physical  pain 
never  left  her  heart,  and  sometimes  the 
mental  strain  and  bodily  torture  taxed 
her  resistance  almost  to  the  breaking 
point.  Sometimes  in  the  little  acts  of 
her  daily  life  a  sudden  blur  would  dim 
her  eyes,  her  hands  would  tremble  as 
she  wrote;  then  at  clearer  moments 
when  some  insistent  need  of  mental 
activity  had  roused  her  brain,  these 
mists  of  suffering  would  clear  away,  and 
she  would  find  herself  oftenest  alone  at 
night  face  to  face  again  with  the  em- 
bodied tragedy  which  was  destroying 
her. 

She  had  not  believed  herself  capable 
of  such  suffering,  and  she  who  had 
longed  to  live,  spoke  bitterly  to  her  own 
heart,  asking  if  she  were  at  last  content. 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  149 

She  was  alive  indeed  to  the  remotest 
mysteries  of  her  being. 

Hopeless  of  peace,  she  threw  herself 
into  the  crowding  occupations  of  her 
outward  life  seeking  for  physical  ex- 
haustion. In  the  hot  days  of  August 
she  moved  through  the  succeeding  scenes 
of  the  heartless  drama  of  her  days, 
hypnotized  by  the  force  of  her  unbreak- 
able will  into  a  curious  mechanical  obe- 
dience to  outward  forms.  Her  mind 
was  a  dim  turmoil  whirling  to  the 
rhythm  of  the  pain  which  throbbed 
through  her  senses.  The  white  dust 
of  the  roads,  the  heavy  embowering 
trees,  sounds  of  broken  laughter,  dance 
music,  and  a  tourbillion  of  summer 
gauze  rainbow  colored,  kaleidoscopic, 
swept  changefully  across  her  conscious- 
ness. 

Thus  days,  even  weeks,  passed  by. 

It  was  the  middle  of  August  and  as 
General  Rivington,  had  returned  from 
his  yachting,  she  had  no  time  to  herself 


I5O  A   SAWDUST   DOLL. 

except  the  few  exhausted  moments 
which  were  hers  at  night. 

In  the  afternoon  she  drove  with  her 
husband,  sometimes  stopping  at  the 
Polo  field,  sometimes  driving  out  past 
the  cliffs  into  the  quieter  country,  and 
she  was  grateful  for  these  hours  of 
silence.  The  affection  she  had  always 
borne  her  husband  seemed  to  be 
strengthened  under  the  mute  appeal  of 
her  heart  for  sympathy  and  compassion. 
Her  self  reproach  at  times  was  very  bit- 
ter, and  she  longed  deeply  for  the  lux- 
ury of  confession  and  of  punishment. 
Often  in  these  long  drives,  a  rising  im- 
pulse to  ease  her  own  pain  would  tempt 
her  strongly,  but  she  would  always 
check  it,  realizing  that  she  was  already 
doing  her  utmost  of  loyalty  in  her  refusal 
to  see  Aytoun  again,  and  believing  that 
she  had  no  right  to  cause  her  husband 
useless  distress. 

There  were  times  when  in  the  ebb  of 
the  outward  excitement  with  which  her 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  I$I 

days  were  full,  her  face  would  reveal  the 
secret  and  daily  exhaustion  of  her  vital- 
ity. It  showed  itself  in  an  indescriba- 
ble spiritualizing  of  her  features,  which 
was  hardly  illness  or  emaciation,  but 
which  changed  the  radiating  beauty  of 
her  perfect  health  into  something  mys- 
terious, fragile  and  deeply  alluring.  In 
these  days  of  her  own  mortal  pain, 
Helen  was  more  passionately  loved  and 
lovable  than  ever  before  in  her  life,  and 
became  the  moving  center  of  the  chang- 
ing life  about  her.  Her  personality 
was  for  the  moment  the  ruling  influence 
in  an  atmosphere  mysteriously  charged 
with  the  intense  magnetism  of  her  vital- 
ity, brought  to  its  completest  poten- 
tiality by  the  force  of  her  own  suffering. 
She  was  amazed  at  this  tide  of  interest, 
of  passionate  occupation  with  herself, 
which  seemed  to  set  towards  her,  and 
gave  herself  up  to  it  with  a  bitter  grati- 
tude half  mockery,  half  despair. 

Every  day  she  would  be  the  foremost 


152  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

figure  of  some  gay  party  when  she 
would  sit  in  her  dainty  dress  on  the  box 
seat  of  some  coach,  the  very  figure  of 
frivolity  and  fashion,  beautiful,  insolent, 
and  admired.  Every  night  in  her  dia- 
monds and  her  tulle,  she  would  dance, 
laughing  a  little  recklessly,  never  rest- 
ing, while  she  wondered  at  her  own  en- 
durance, and  then  she  would  drive 
home  in  silence,  her  face  sunk  upon  the 
cushions  of  her  carriage,  her  hands 
clasped  over  that  never  ceasing  pain  at 
her  heart,  her  breath  coming  shortly, 
heavily  in  the  depth  of  her  pain.  "Philip, 
Philip,  oh !  Philip,"  she  would  sigh, 
repeating  his  name  over  and  over  in 
her  solitude,  with  all  the  words  which 
were  the  very  golden  coinage  of  her 
heart,  unspent,  unspoken  except  thus  in 
her  despair. 


Chapter  XI. 
ft 

|ELEN  wondered  sometimes  how 
it  could  be  possible  that  her  hus- 
band could  be  unconscious  of  the  intense 
preoccupation  of  her  mind. 

General  Rivington  was  very  happy  at 
Newport ;  its  streets  for  him  were  filled 
with  associations.  Its  formal  life  with  its 
invariable  elegance,  its  precision,  pleased 
his  taste,  and  it  delighted  him  to  see 
his  young  wife  moving  before  him  in 
the  apparent  enjoyment  of  the  position 
he  had  given  her  and  the  beauty  of 
which  he  was  so  proud.  It  pleased 
him  to  order  their  life  on  a  somewhat 
more  lavish  scale  than  when  in  town. 
He  occupied  himself  with  the  details  of 
their  weekly  dinners  whose  perfection 
had  for  years  been  a  standard  of  envy 
and  imitation,  and  which  it  was  an  inter- 
'53 


154  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

est  and  pride  for  him  to  continue.  He 
began  his  day  with  a  consultation  with 
the  cook,  an  important  person  who  had 
been  for  years  in  his  service,  and  with 
whom  Helen  never  attempted  to  inter- 
fere. Then  he  would  walk  into  town, 
a  mild  constitutional  of  a  mile  and  a 
half,  and  smoke  his  cigar  with  one  or 
another  of  his  friends  at  the  Casino,  or 
at  the  Reading  Room. 

At  the  Casino  during  the  days  of  the 
tennis  tournament  Helen  would  join 
him,  and  they  would  drive  together  in 
her  phaeton  to  their  luncheon  at  home, 
or  abroad.  General  Rivington  had  so 
long  been  a  part  of  the  life  at  Newport 
that  he  was  unconscious  of  any  lack  of 
naturalness  in  its  society.  He  was  at 
home  among  its  formalities,  of  which 
he  was  himself  a  part.  He  was  accus- 
tomed, however,  to  inveigh  against 
the  curt  impertinence  of  the  younger 
men,  and  asked  with  indignation  by 


A   SAWDUST   DOLL.  155 

whose  authority  insolence  had  been 
established,  as  the  first  principle  of 
good  manners. 

One  morning,  as  often  happened,  he 
met  his  friend  Tom  Ripley,  as  he  turned 
out  of  his  gate,  and  adjusting  his  long 
step  to  the  somewhat  shorter  one  of  his 
companion  they  strolled  off  towards  the 
town.  It  was  a  clear  morning,  the  sun 
shone  brightly  upon  Tom  Ripley's 
smoothly  shaven,  handsome  face  and 
brought  out  the  old  ivory  tones  in  his 
skin,  the  lines  about  the  pale  blue  eyes. 
General  Rivington  had  some  trouble  in 
keeping  step  with  his  friend,  whose 
movements  were  slow,  and  whose  figure 
was  undoubtedly  a  little  bent.  "Upon 
my  word,"  said  General  Rivington  to 
himself,  "Tom  is  getting  old."  He 
straightened  his  shoulders  as  he  walked 
beside  his  friend,  "and  I  am  two  years 
older  than  he,"  he  thought  with  pride. 
"It  is  not  the  years  which  tell." 


I$6  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

A  landau  with  a  party  of  sight  seeing 
strangers  rolled  slowly  by,  the  occupants 
staring  openly. 

"I  wonder  who  those  two  distinguished 
old  men  are,"  a  clear  voice  said.  "  You 
never  see  such  old  men  anywhere  but  in 
Newport." 

General  Rivington  and  Ripley  looked 
at  each  other. 

"Old!  yes,  I  suppose  we  are,"  said 
General  Rivington,  "but  upon  my  word 
I  wouldn't  exchange  with  any  of  those 
young  cubs  at  the  Casino — I  should  like 
to  give  them  a  lesson  in  manners." 

"You  would  have  your  trouble  for 
your  pains,"  replied  his  friend.  "They 
know  more  than  you  do." 

"Yes,  of  course,  of  course  they  do,  but 
upon  my  word  it  makes  my  blood  boil 
sometimes;"  General  Rivington  struck 
his  stick  sharply  upon  the  sidewalk. 
"Their  insolence  is  beyond  belief ! — this 
country  is  not  what  it  was,  the  race  of 
American  gentlemen  is  dying  out." 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  I  57 

"Oh  !  come,  come,"  said  Ripley,  "you 
are  a  little  hard." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  General  Rivington 
insisted ;  "if  I  had  a  son  I  should  see  to 
it  that  he  should  remember  some  things 
my  father  never  permitted  me  to  forget, 
and  which  these  young  men  never  seem 
to  have  thought  of." 

"What  for  instance,"  said  Ripley, 
agreeing  in  his  heart,  but  enjoying  his 
friend's  indignation. 

"Patriotism,  man  !"  answered  General 
Rivington,  irately.  "They  haven't  an 
idea  of  such  a  thing;  it's  as  old  fash- 
ioned to  their  minds  as  the  wigs  of  our 
grandfathers." 

"True,  true,"  said  Ripley  with  convic- 
tion. 

"And  respect  for  women,  and  courtesy 
for  their  elders  and  betters,"  continued 
General  Rivington.  "Have  you  seen 
the  least  indication  that  they  know  what 
good  manners  mean." 

Th«y  walked  on  towards  the  Casino. 


158  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

A  bright  faced  girl  drove  by  in  a  russet 
wagon,  flicking  her  ponies  skillfully, 
while  she  smiled  and  nodded  to  Ripley. 

"That's  a  fine  girl  of  yours,"  said 
Rivington. 

"Yes,  my  youngest;"  replied  Ripley, 
with  pride.  "She's  taller  than  I  am." 

"Drives  awfully  well,  too,"  said  Gen- 
eral Rivington.  "  I'll  admit  the  girls  are 
better.  It's  a  pity!  The  men  aren't  fit 
to  tie  their  shoe  strings." 

As  they  neared  the  Casino,  carriages, 
carts  and  occasional  horsemen  passed 
incessantly,  and  Gen.  Rivington  and 
Ripley  with  a  scrupulous  courtesy  fre- 
quently raised  their  hats  in  greeting  to 
smiling  women  in  light  gowns  and 
flowered  hats,  who  bowed  to  them  from 
under  their  lace  parasols  as  they  drove 
by. 

They  went  into  the  club  and  sat 
down,  taking  their  places  in  the  line  of 
men  in  the  embowered  balcony  above 
the  Casino  door,  and  looking  down  up- 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  159 

on  the  crowd  which  was  gathering 
around  a  coach  about  to  start.  A  num- 
ber of  men  went  out  leaving  two  who 
were  apparently  immersed  in  conversa- 
tion at  the  end  of  the  porch  opposite  to 
where  General  Rivington  and  Ripley  sat 
quietly  with  their  cigars. 

The  taller  of  the  two,  whose  name 
was  Seton,  was  dressed  in  traveling 
tweed,  and  surveyed  the  scene  below 
him  with  the  undisguised  interest  of  a 
new  comer,  noting  the  familiar  and  the 
unfamiliar  faces  in  the  crowd  of  gayly 
dressed  people,  gathered  about  the 
coach. 

He  was  long  limbed  and  slender,  his 
hat  was  pushed  back  from  his  brown 
hair,  his  eyes  were  alert,  his  nose 
impertinent,  the  shape  of  his  face  and 
the  curve  of  his  lips,  young  and  poetic- 
ally classic.  He  held  a  cigarette  loosely 
in  his  mouth,  his  voice  was  crisp  and 
high  pitched,  but  vigorous. 

The  other  was  Tom   Gary,  who  ac- 


l6O  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

cording  to  his  invariable  habit  was 
spending  August  in  Newport.  His 
melancholy  blue  eyes  were  half  shut,  he 
leaned  languidly  over  the  balcony,  re- 
plying to  his  friend's  questions  his 
words  dropping  shortly  from  his  lips, 
which  were  set  in  an  expression  of  un- 
moved indifference,  under  his  drooping 
blond  moustache. 

"Otis  sits  his  box  very  well,  doesn't 
he,  Gary  ?  I  never  saw  such  a  man.  He 
drives  as  well  as  if  he  had  owned  horses 
for  years.  Best  all  around  sport  I  ever 
saw.  Somebody  must  be  late,  he  looks 
rather  cross — there  is  Mrs.  Bertram.  By 
Jove !  she  is  prettier  than  ever, — Isn't 
she  going?" 

"No,  we  took  the  coach  yesterday 
together — don't  know  who's  got  it. 
Not  much  of  a  crowd.  It's  an  off  day." 

"Yes,  I  should  think  so,  never  saw 
such  a  set." 

A  victoria  drove  up  rapidly,  and  a 
very  pretty  woman  making  her  way 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  l6l 

among  the  crowd  mounted  hurriedly  to 
the  box  seat. 

"Upon  my  word,"  said  Seton  sitting 
forward,  "There's  Mabel  Perkins,  in 
Newport  1  That  woman  has  nerve — I'd 
no  idea  she'd  try  it  so  soon — how  is  she 
getting  on  ?" 

"Not  a  woman  has  spoken  to  her  as 
yet." 

"Of  course  they  haven't,  she  might 
have  known.  I  can't  think  how  she 
could  have  made  such  a  mistake — she's 
usually  cleverer  than  that." 

"Why!  didn't  you  know?  the  old 
man  has  made  a  pile." 

"Another  pile,  you  mean." 

"Yes,  he's  simply  drowned  in  money 
— ugh,  it  makes  me  sick." 

"Is  he  here?  "asked  Gary. 

"Of  course  not,  she  isn't  quite  such 
a  fool  as  that." 

"Fool? — she  isn't  a  fool  at  all  — 
She's  had  to  take  that  coach  and  fill  it 
up  with  duffers,  but  never  mind  she'll 
ii 


1 62  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

have  four  or  five  hours  with  Otis  and  by 
the  time  she  gets  back,  he'll  know  who 
she  is." 

"The  women  are  all  down  on  her, 
she's  got  a  long  row  to  hoe  before  she 
gets  there.  It's  astonishing  how  mean 
they  are — the  lot  of  them." 

"Well  no  wonder  they  hate  her,"  said 
Seton,  "she  can  give  them  all  points  on 
looks,  and  that's  the  whole  business 
after  all.  Deliver  me  from  a  woman 
who  talks." 

During  this  conversation  Mrs.  Per- 
kins settled  herself  on  the  box  seat  of 
the  coach,  and  tilted  her  parasol  over 
her  frizzy  yellow  head.  Her  face  was 
smooth  and  round,  with  a  Greuze-like 
softness  of  outline  and  a  peachy  skin. 
She  lifted  her  chin  and  looked  down 
from  under  her  dropped  eyelids  upon 
the  crowd  of  staring  people  about  the 
coach  with  a  cool  insolence  which 
matched  their  own,  her  slight  figure  in 
its  faultless  dress  held  gracefully  erect, 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  163 

her  tiny  feet  in  their  smart  shoes  ad- 
vanced a  trifle. 

"Upon  my  word!"  said  Seton,  be- 
tween his  teeth.  "She  looks  cool,  she 
knows  I'm  here  too," — he  brought  his 
hand  down  on  the  edge  of  the  balcony. 
"By  all  that's  holy,  I'd  change  that  ex- 
pression for  you,  my  lady,  if  I  were  here 
for  more  than  a  minute  —  but  only  over 
Sunday !  A  man's  got  to  have  time." 
He  turned  towards  his  friend,  "  By  Jove 
that  woman  is  a  stunner.  Did  you  see 
that  foot  ?  there  isn't  another  like  it  in 
the  place;"  his  eyes  were  alit,  his  voice 
eager. 

"Small  good  will  it  do  her,"  grum- 
bled his  companion,  who  was  biting  his 
mustache. 

"Why!  what's  the  matter  with  you, 
Gary,  you  look  rusty.  You  know  she's 
the  best  looking  woman  here."  Gary 
looked  down  and  kept  silent.  Seton 
eyed  him  with  a  sudden  glance  of  in- 
telligence. 


1 64  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

"  I  believe  you  have  tried  it  on,"  he 
said  with  conviction. 

The  other  looked  up  resentfully. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  didn't  you  tell  me 
to." 

"  I  told  you  I  had,"  said  Seton  with 
cool  impertinence,  "  but  I  didn't  advise 
you  to  follow  my  example." 

"  Confound  your  conceit,"  growled 
Gary,  flushing  red. 

"  So  she  wouldn't  have  it?  "  laughed 
Seton,  "  what  did  she  say?  " 

"  Oh,  she  took  the  high  moral  ground, 
said  I  didn't  understand  her,  that  I 
might  kiss  her  hand  if  I  liked." 

"  Oh,  her  hand." 

"  Yes,  said  she  hadn't  permitted  any- 
thing else  since  her  marriage." 

"  Good  heavens,  how  she  has  wasted 
her  timel" 

"She  lied,  of  course,"  said  Gary, 
looking  sharply  at  Seton,  who  raised 
his  eyebrows  and  whistled  softly  through 
his  teeth. 


A   SAWDUST   DOLL.  1 65 

Gary  rose  with  an  impatient  move- 
ment, and  seated  himself  on  the  edge  of 
the  balcony. 

"They  are  all  liars,  and  there's  no 
such  thing  as  principles  if  they  fancy  a 
man.  Look  at  that  beautiful  Mrs.  Riv- 
ington." 

"  What!  "  said  Seton  "  that  lily  of 
purity.  You  don't  mean  to  say  she's 
joined  the  great  majority  —  who's  the 
man  ?  By  Jove,  I  shouldn't  mind  chang- 
ing places  with  him." 

"  Oh,  nobody  you  know;  Aytoun,  an 
artist.  Been  up  here  painting  Mrs. 
Lindsay's  portrait.  He  and  Mrs.  Riv- 
ington  have  been  simply  inseparable." 

"  You  don't  mean  it?  What  does  she 
want  with  him?  Why  doesn't  she  stick 
to  her  own  set." 

"  Don't  ask  me.  You  never  know 
when  the  fancy  will  take  them.  He's  a 
good  looking  chap;  I  suppose  she  likes 
him." 

Their  voices  had  become  louder  as 


1 66  A   SAWDUST   DOLL. 

they  continued.  The  noise  and  con- 
fusion which  drowned  their  conversa- 
tion before,  had  subsided  with  the  de- 
parture of  the  coach  and  the  scattering 
of  the  crowd. 

General  Rivington  and  Ripley  had 
heard  the  last  of  their  remarks  about  Mrs. 
Perkins,  and  had  turned  their  backs. 

"Young  ruffians,"  General  Rivington 
had  exclaimed  angrily.  "What  was  I 
saying,  Ripley?  Tell  me  what  you 
think  of  that  sort  of  a  conversation  in  a 
public  place." 

"Oh,  well,"  replied  Ripley,  "they 
might  have  said  worse  things,"  but  Gen- 
eral Rivington  moved  his  chair  noisily, 
quite  failing  to  attract  the  attention  of 
the  offenders,  and  puffed  angrily  at  his 
cigar. 

Suddenly  he  caught  his  wife's  name 
and  Ripley  saw  the  blood  rush  to  his 
face.  He  rose  to  his  feet.  Ripley  also 
had  heard  quite  distinctly,  and  put  a 
detaining  hand  upon  his  arm. 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  1 67 

"Rivington,"  he  said  earnestly,  "Riv- 
ington — for  heaven's  sake  don't  make  a 
fool  of  yourself." 

General  Rivington  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment erect,  his  hands  clenched  over  his 
stick — his  eyes  afire,  thinking  rapidly 
even  in  his  anger.  "  I  have  been  away," 
he  thought,  "  what  knowledge  have  I 
with  which  to  refute  these  lies.  I  shall 
defend  her  but  not  in  the  dark,"  as  he 
hesitated  with  his  friend's  hand  upon 
his  arm,  the  two  men  rose  carelessly 
without  a  glance  in  their  direction,  and 
left  the  balcony.  General  Rivington 
shut  his'lips. 

"  Thank  you,  Tom,"  he  said,  "  I  shall 
settle  with  these  cubs  later.  You  are 
right,  this  is  not  the  time."  They  went 
down  stairs  in  silence. 

"Good morning,"  General  Rivington 
said  abruptly  at  the  door.  "  Good 
morning,  Tom." 

Ripley  watched  him  as  he  walked 
away. 


Chapter  XII. 
IENERAL  RIVINGTON  did  not 

see  his  wife  until  they  met  at 
the  door  to  drive  to  their  dinner.  Al- 
though his  mood  of  anger  had  persisted 
during  the  day,  he  did  not  deem  it  wise 
to  discuss  a  subject  of  such  importance 
during  the  brief  moment  of  their  drive, 
but  when  they  returned  and  Helen  had 
put  her  foot  upon  the  stairs,  and  had 
bidden  him  good-night  he  interrupted 
her  progress  with  a  gravely  detaining 
word. 

"Helen,"  he  said,  "I  must  speak  with 
you  a  moment." 

She  followed  him  into  the  library  ;  a 
single  light  was  burning  dimly,  and  the 
room  was  filled  with  the  diffused  white 
radiance  of  the  summer  night.  She 
stood  quietly  by  the  table  at  which  her 
1 68 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  169 

husband  had  taken  his  accustomed  seat, 
—  pale  in  her  white  dress — her  cloak 
falling  away  from  her  bare  shoulders. 
Her  eyes  were  startled,  but  not  afraid. 

General  Rivington  took  up  a  paper 
knife  which  lay  on  the  table,  and  turned 
it  nervously  in  his  hand. 

"Helen,"  he  said  in  a  voice  which 
she  had  never  heard,  "it  is  very  pain- 
ful;" he  paused,  and  then  went  on  rap- 
idly, "I  overheard  your  name  to-day 
at  the  club,  spoken  in  connection  with 
a  man  whom  I  myself  have  never  seen 
but  once,  but  whom  you  must  have 
often  seen  during  my  absence.  The 
words  used  were  very  unpleasant  for  me 
to  hear,  if  not  compromising  to  your- 
self ;  I  must  defend  you  and  myself, 
and  to  do  this  I  must  not  be  left  in 
ignorance." 

"If  you  will  tell  me;"  began  his 
wife,  in  a  deep  and  perfectly  quiet 
voice  — 

"Understand  me,"  he  interrupted  ;  I 


I/O  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

do  not  wish  to  pry  into  your  secrets — I 
have  left  you  every  liberty,  have  I  not?" 

"Absolute  liberty,"  she  answered. 

"You  do  not  need  to  be  told  that  I 
trusted  you.  It  is  intolerable  to  me  to 
question  you,  to  remind  you  of  what 
you  owe  to  your  own  dignity  and 
mine." 

She  threw  up  her  head,  "Ah,"  she 
said,  "  I  do  not  deserve  this.  Have  I 
ever  needed  such  a  lesson?" 

"If  what  I  heard  to-day  has  a  founda- 
tion in  truth,  you  do."  He  looked  at 
her  searchingly. 

She  hesitated,  her  lips  trembling,  and 
he  noticed  for  the  first  time  the  pallor 
of  her  face,  and  was  startled  to  see  how 
thin  she  had  grown.  A  sudden  pain 
and  pity  for  her  sharpened  his  anger 
intolerably,  as  he  realized  that  some- 
thing indeed  had  entered  into  her  life 
to  change  her  so. 

"Answer  me;"  he  insisted  sternly. 
She  still  hesitated,  confused  between 


A   SAWDUST   DOLL.  171 

her  desire  to  confess  her  unhappiness, 
and  the  pride  of  her  conscious  inno- 
cence. Her  husband  still  held  his  com- 
manding gaze  fixed  upon  her. 

"I  do  not  need  your  blame,  but  your 
sympathy;  if  you  only  knew!" 

"It  is  not  true?  Then  why  ask  for 
pity."  His  voice  was  dry  and  hard. 

"It  is  not  true,"  she  answered  more 
firmly  in  reply  to  the  continued  cruelty 
of  his  manner.  "Certainly  not  true  that 
I  have  forgotten  what  I  owe  to  you — 
except" — and  here  her  rigid  instinct  of 
truth  arrested  her,  she  hesitated,  and 
then  began  to  speak  falteringly.  "Oh, 
listen,  listen,"  she  exclaimed,  throwing 
out  her  hands appealingly.  "I  have  not 
done  wrong,  I  think,  not  very  wrong — " 
she  stopped  again.  "Oh,  how  can  I  tell 
you?" 

"You  must,"  he  replied,  but  even  as 
he  spoke  sternly  and  unrelentingly  he 
began  to  realize  her  suffering,  to  steel 
himself  against  it. 


172  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

"I  must  go  back  a  little,"  she  said. 
"I  was  very  young  when  you  married 
me,  and  I  have  not  been  unhappy.  Oh, 
believe  me — not  unhappy." 

"You  did  not  seem  so,"  he  replied. 

"I  was  not,  and  you  have  been  very 
kind  to  me,  but  we  must  all  live,  must 
we  not?  I  thought  I  had,  when  I  mar- 
ried you,  else  I  never  should  have  con- 
sented. I  thought  the  danger  was  over. 
I  thought  I  might  add  to  your  hap- 
piness— by  my  affection  and  gratitude, 
make  some  return  for  all  you  did  for 
me."  She  paused  again,  looking  to  him 
for  a  little  help  in  her  painful  speech, 
but  he  was  silent.  "The  danger  was 
not  over,"  she  continued;  "for  after  a 
while  I  saw  that  I  had  not  known  what 
it  was  to  live — and  I  was  lonely  some- 
times;— you  thought,  I  know,  that  you 
were  giving  me  all  I  desired  in  grant- 
ing me  so  much  liberty,  but  oh,  I  grew 
so  tired  of  all  that  empty  lifel  I  was 
very  lonely,  but  I  believed  that  I  was 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  173 

cold,  as  they  all  think  me,  and  tried  to 
forget  it,  and  then  — " 

"Well?" 

"I  had  known  Mr.  Aytoun  years 
ago;"  she  said,  speaking  the  name 
simply.  "He  understood  me — inter- 
ested me,  I  did  not  think  our  friendship 
could  be  wrong — I  never  knew  anyone 
so  well  in  all  my  life."  She  paused  and 
turned  away  her  head.  For  a  fleeting 
moment,  standing  there  as  she  did 
before  her  husband,  the  peace  of  that 
friendship,  in  which  she  had  alone 
known  happiness,  absorbed  her,  and  her 
face  softened  into  a  momentary  gleam 
of  joy. 

General  Rivington  watched  her,  suf- 
fering deeply,  and  a  dumb  jealousy 
such  as  he  had  never  before  experienced 
took  possession  of  him. 

"I  did  not  think  it  was  wrong,"  she 
repeated,  "and  I  was  happy  in  my  igno- 
rance until, — she  hesitated  again — I  saw 
where  we  had  come — and  then,  Oh! 


174  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

believe  me,  believe  me,"  she  appealed 
to  him,  "I  have  tried  to  do  right,  I 
have  refused  to  see  him,  I  have" — 

"When  was  this?"  he  asked  her. 
"Let  me  understand  quite  clearly. 
You  saw  Mr.  Aytoun  constantly  while 
I  was  away?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered  ;  "I  think  so — 
very  often." 

"And  as  soon  as  you  discovered;" 
General  Rivington  found  it  difficult  to 
continue.  "You  have  nothing  more  to 
tell  me?"  He  dropped  his  eyes  from 
her  frank  gaze. 

"Oh,  how  can  you,"  she  exclaimed 
bitterly,  the  blood  rushing  to  her  face 
and  then  leaving  it  pale  again.  "  Look 
at  me! — yes,  I  love  this  man,  as  much, 
I  think,  as  he  loves  me,  but  I  have  had 
the  strength  to  bid  him  good-bye.  I 
have  not  sinned,  no,  except  in  the 
recognition  of  this  love,  which  is  not 
stronger  than  my  will — oh,  try  to  be 
sorry  for  me,"  she  said  in  her  deep 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  175 

voice.  "  Love  comes  once  in  all  our 
lives,  I  think,  and  then  we  live — in  joy 
or  pain ;  it  is  nothing  but  suffering  to 
me." 

General  Rivington  closed  his  eyes  for 
a  moment  to  shut  away  the  sight  of  his 
wife's  face,  steeling  his  heart  against 
her  suffering,  unable  in  his  anger,  to 
think  of  her  youth,  her  loneliness,  her 
pain. 

She  stood  there  her  hands  clasped 
tightly  over  her  heart,  her  eyes  dark, 
her  pale  lips  drawn  with  suffering, 
lonely,  except  for  his  sympathy,  his 
affection.  For  a  moment  he  almost 
yielded  to  the  impulse  to  forgive  her 
freely,  to  tell  her  how  he  honored  her 
for  her  bravery,  for  he  did  understand 
and  believe  her  wholly,  but  he  was  not 
strong  enough.  He  rose  from  his  chair. 

"I  quite  believe  all  you  say — your 
explanation  is  sufficient — you  have  not 
transgressed  the  letter  of  the  law,  that 
is  quite  evident.  We  will  not  speak 


1/6  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

of  this  again.  You  are  probably  tired. 
Good  night." 

Helen  looked  at  him  a  moment,  his 
tall  figure  held  rigidly  erect,  noting 
hopelessly  the  stern  passivity  of  his 
face,  and  then  she  turned  and  slowly 
traversed  the  length  of  the  great  room, 
pale  and  stately  in  her  white  dress, 
whose  satin  murmured  on  the  floor,  the 
only  sound  in  the  deep  stillness.  At 
the  door  she  stopped  and  turned 
towards  her  husband  with  a  half 
checked  gesture  of  appeal,  but  his  at- 
titude was  still  rigidly  unmoved,  and 
she  went  out  leaving  him  alone. 

General  Rivington  resumed  his  seat 
at  the  table,  his  lips  firmly  set.  He 
turned  up  the  light,  and  drawing  some 
writing  materials  about  him,  began  to 
compose  a  letter  of  importance,  which 
he  had  been  considering  for  some  days; 
but  in  the  double  activity  of  his  mind, 
he  was  aware  that  the  thought  which  he 
had  deliberately  attempted  to  banish  to 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  177 

sub-consciousness,  was  asserting  itself. 
He  saw  his  wife's  face  instinct  with  sad- 
ness, her  appealing  voice  sounded  in 
his  ears. 

His  tardy  love  and  pride  in  the 
young  girl  he  had  married  had  re- 
mained upon  the  surface  of  a  nature 
long  settled  into  the  formality  of  habit, 
the  coldness  of  continual  good  fortune. 
But  now  as  he  sat  there  alone  in  silence, 
a  strange  suffering  rent  and  shook  him. 
He  dropped  his  pen  and  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands.  Dreams  of  a  youth 
long  passed,  his  memory  gave  them  up 
reluctantly,  his  own  thwarted  fancies 
and  ideals  and  long  forgotten  sorrows 
and  joys,  moved  before  him  in  the  still- 
ness, rising  again  at  this  vision  of  a 
love,  which  was  not  for  him.  The 
sweetness  of  her  nature,  never  wholly 
known  till  now,  which  he  realized  was 
not  stirred  for  him,  smote  him  with  a 
bitter  sense  of  longing  and  regret. 
Painful  reluctant  thoughts  of  the  years 

12 


178  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

which  lay  between  himself  and  Helen, 
clamored  for  recognition,  and  the  re- 
membrance of  the  solitary  life  she  had 
led  among  the  formal,  empty  gayeties 
to  which  he  had  abandoned  her  re- 
proached him  bitterly.  Trying  still  tc 
maintain  his  attitude  of  angry  con- 
demnation of  his  wife  against  the  flood 
of  sympathy  which  assailed  him,  there 
came  a  moment  when  he  found  he 
could  no  longer  blame  her.  Alone, 
delivered  over  to  this  strange  conflict 
with  himself  and  his  pride,  his  cold- 
ness suddenly  gave  way,  and  grief  and 
love  penetrated  his  heart,  crusted  with 
the  composure  of  years;  entered  and 
filled  it  full. 

He  dropped  his  head  in  his  hands. 
"Too  late,"  he  groaned.    "Too  late." 
But  to  Helen,  sobbing  alone  in  her 
room,  abandoned  to  her  suffering,  her 
sorrow  had  never  seemed  so  hopeless, 
her  solitude  so  deserted. 


Chapter  XIII. 


|HE  kiss  which  had  awakened 
Helen  and  Aytoun  from  their 
dream  of  friendship  had  brought  despair 
to  her,  but  to  Aytoun  it  was  revolution. 
Past  the  temptations  and  expansions  of 
early  youth,  Aytoun  had  maintained  an 
unswerving  loyalty  to  his  ideal  of  life 
in  art.  At  thirty-five  he  believed  him- 
self sincerely  to  be  incapable  of  treach- 
ery to  that  faith. 

But  life  has  surprises  for  the  strongest. 
At  any  moment  some  thunder-bolt  from 
the  electricities  which  sweep  about  us, 
may  strike  us  into  silence  from  which 
we  awake  the  slaves  of  a  new  passion. 
Lightning  will  breed  an  infidelity  in  a 
compass. 

When  Aytoun  first  realized  the  danger 
which  awaited  him,  his  pride  revolted 
179 


180  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

strongly,  and  his  struggle,  though  brief, 
was  bitter.  Then,  when  the  real  simi- 
larity of  their  natures  declared  itself, 
charmed  by  Helen's  mind,  lulled  into  a 
false  security  by  her  frankness,  her  loy- 
alty, he  lent  himself  to  her  search  for  an 
ideal  friendship.  But  if  the  real  deli- 
cacy and  spiritual  cleanliness  of  his  mind, 
which  had  its  sources  in  the  pure  foun- 
tains of  his  American  birth,  had  made 
him  able  to  understand  her  deeply,  that 
knowledge  also  taught  him  that  she  did 
not  realize  the  danger  they  were  brav- 
ing. Divining  the  invincible  decree  of 
separation  which  she  would  issue  if  she 
knew  she  loved  him,  he  put  commands 
upon  himself,  and  with  his  assisting  will 
maintained  the  deception  which  gained 
for  them  both  hours  of  unforgetable 
happiness,  while  they  walked  the  road 
which  they  called  friendship.  For  the 
first  time  the  joy  of  life  in  life  was  his, 
for  the  first  time  he  touched  that  unspent 
capital  of  sentiment,  of  self-forgetting 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  l8l 

passion,  which  had  so  long  lain  hidden 
in  his  nature. 

He  had  loved  her  first  resentfully, 
fearing  to  lose  his  long-kept  independ- 
ence, jealous  of  his  art;  then  gratefully, 
as  the  sweetness  and  delicacy  of  this 
woman's  mind  met  his,  the  freshness  of 
this  poetic  heart  was  revealed  to  him; 
then  madly,  as  the  ineffable  beauty  of 
the  beloved  woman  took  possession  of 
him.  Her  eyes,  the  fragrance  of  her 
hair,  her  dress,  enslaved  his  senses. 
There  was  a  little  curl  which  escaped 
upon  her  neck.  There  were  soft  mys- 
teries of  shadow  about  her  eyes,  inde- 
scribable ripples  of  expression  about  the 
deep  corners  of  her  mouth  curved  with 
happiness,  which  were  impressed  upon 
his  brain  as  the  sun  upon  eyes,  which 
have  gazed  too  long  upon  its  intoler- 
able light. 

During  the  last  weeks  of  their  friend- 
ship, while  he  suffered  those  painful 
alternations  of  love  and  anger,  which  the 


1 82  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

sight  of  her  worldly  life  inflicted  on  him, 
he  still  doubted  if  she  loved  him,  still 
held  his  own  love  captive  to  his  will,  but 
when  her  kiss  revealed  to  him  how  much 
her  heart  was  his,  pride  and  reserve,  and 
his  life's  loyalty  to  his  art  abdicated  at 
last,  leaving  place  but  for  one  worship 
—  the  beloved  woman. 

On  the  night  when  they  had  sailed 
together  through  their  dream  to  this 
blinding  reality,  he  walked  home  in  an 
ecstatic  solitude,  his  soul  expanding  on 
the  wings  of  the  infinite  within  him  to 
the  infinite  of  the  sky.  His  mood  of 
joy  was  triumphant  as  the  beauty  of  the 
moon  which  rode  free  of  obscuring 
clouds  in  the  deep  vault  of  the  night. 
He  wandered  solitary  through  the  quiet 
streets  of  the  town,  and  out  upon  the 
cliffs,  and  as  he  stood  upon  the  shore 
alone  with  the  limitless  sky  above  him, 
the  waves  of  the  ocean  rushing  to  his 
feet,  obedient  to  the  law  of  nature,  he 
realized  by  the  light  of  his  own  passion 


A   SAWDUST   DOLL.  183 

that  nature  with  its  waves  was  throbbing 
through  him,  that  he  was  a  part  of  it, 
this  love  a  law,  his  soul  an  eternity, 
infinite  as  the  stars. 

His  surrender  was  deep  and  exultant, 
the  surrender  of  the  lover  and  the 
poet. 

There  were  moments  when  fears  of 
her  stern  self-judgment  assailed  him, 
but  they  were  powerless  as  yet  to  hurt  him, 
clothed  upon  as  he  was  with  the  glory 
of  a  first  love  revealed,  crowned  with 
the  knowledge  of  its  full  requital.  He 
did  not  go  to  his  rooms  that  night,  but 
wandering  far  along  the  shore  uncon- 
scious of  whither  his  steps  were  leading, 
the  dawn  surprised  him.  He  went  to 
his  studio,  where  he  spent  the  hours  of 
the  morning  in  a  deep  slumber.  When 
he  awoke,  his  mind  slowly  and  hesitat- 
ingly repossessed  its  happiness,  for  with 
that  happiness  the  lurking  fear  which  in 
the  glories  and  the  illuminations  of  the 
night  had  been  powerless  to  hurt  him, 


1 84  A   SAWDUST   DOLL. 

grasped  his  heart  with  a  painful  clutch 
of  apprehension. 

He  waited  with  impatience  for  the 
hour  when  Helen  usually  received  him. 
The  servant  admitted  him,  and  he  made 
his  way  to  the  verandah,  where  the  tea 
table  stood  ready  in  its  accustomed 
place.  His  heart  beat  heavily — he 
braced  his  nerves  in  his  effort  at  control. 
The  servant  appeared  with  a  consciously 
passive  face. 

"Mrs.  Rivington  begs  to  be  excused." 
Aytoun  left  the  house  in  a  daze  of 
dismay.  What  he  most  feared  had 
happened.  She  knew  she  loved  him, 
and  with  that  knowledge  judged  herself 
inexorably.  He  understood  only  too 
well  the  pure  invincibility  of  her  awak- 
ened conscience, — with  a  breathless  fear 
he  wrote  the  letter  over  which  Helen  in 
the  solitude  of  that  sleepless  mid-night 
had  fought  the  great  fight  of  her  life. 
In  the  morning  her  short  note  of  fare- 
well came. 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  l8$ 

"Do  not  hate  me.  It  is  best  for  us  not  to 
see  each  other  again.  I  do  not  need  to  ex- 
plain why  to  you  who  know!  I  do  not  blame 
you.  I  cannot  write.  God  bless  you.  Good- 
bye." H.  R. 

Aytoun  was  angry  when  he  received 
this  note,  impatient  of  its  brevity,  which 
struck  upon  his  throbbing  nerves  like  a 
sudden  blow.  For  a  day  he  was  stunned, 
unable  to  think  clearly,  and  then  he 
attempted  to  gather  his  thoughts  to- 
gether, to  call  to  his  aid  all  the  force  of 
his  pride,  and  the  self-control  which 
never  before  had  failed  him.  He  found 
himself  totally  incapable  to  think  upon 
any  other  subject,  and  realized  with 
a  bitter  anger  that  he  was  no  longer 
his  own  master.  His  chains  galled  him 
intolerably.  Sometimes  he  shut  himself 
up  in  his  studio,  painting  furiously, 
then  destroying  the  work  which  seemed 
worthless  to  him.  Sometimes,  he  walked 
the  street,  driven  by  the  caprices  of  his 
broken  will,  led  by  the  desire  to  catch 
some  glimpse  of  her. 


1 86  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

For  a  week  she  went  nowhere,  and 
then  one  day  he  saw  her.  She  drove 
past  him  on  a  coach  with  a  laughing 
party  of  her  friends.  He  paused  at  the 
roadside  to  let  them  pass.  She  bowed 
to  him  as  they  rolled  by  heavily  with 
the  sweep  of  the  horses,  the  rattle  of  the 
harness;  her  salutation  was  slight  and 
constrained,  with  a  fleeting  smile.  He 
thought  he  heard  her  laugh  as  they 
passed  on. 

She  had  not  left  his  thoughts  for  one 
waking  moment  since  she  had  bidden 
him  good-night  on  that  fatal  evening 
upon  the  water.  "  A  week ! "  he  thought, 
"was  it  only  a  week  ago?"  He  had 
walked  miles  that  day  with  the  hope  of 
deadening  with  physical  fatigue  this 
anguish  which  was  driving  him  like  a 
leaf  before  the  wind. 

And  she — Aytoun  was  ashamed  of  the 
bitter  anger  and  suspicion  which  rose 
within  him  at  the  sight  of  her  thus  driv- 
ing past  him,  gay  and  laughing,  appar- 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  1 87 

ently  forgetful  of  him.  As  he  stood 
there  in  the  dust  while  the  coach  disap- 
peared around  a  curve  in  the  road,  he 
put  his  hand  to  his  throat  with  a  sudden 
sensation  of  choking.  "She  has  been 
playing  with  me,"  he  said  between  his 
teeth.  "I  have  been  a  pastime  for  an 
idle  hour."  All  his  early  suspicion  of 
her,  his  hatred  of  this  world  of  which 
she  was  part,  swept  over  him  again  over- 
poweringly,  blotting  out  his  love  with 
its  tender  passion,  his  knowledge  of  the 
nature  he  knew  and  loved  so  well.  He 
walked  homeward  blindly,  the  victim  of 
anger  and  jealousy,  a  thousand  times 
worse  than  his  despair. 

And  the  next  day  he  bitterly  re- 
proached himself  for  his  suspicion  of 
her,  and  called  himself  unworthy  to  love 
her.  Sometimes  at  night  during  the 
hours  when  Helen  alone  in  her  room 
was  thinking  of  him,  he  also  in  his  soli- 
tude would  be  filled  with  a  vision  of  her, 
and  he  would  become  mysteriously  con- 


1 88  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

scious  of  her  suffering,  filled  with  a  cer- 
tainty of  her  love.  Sometimes  in  obedi- 
ence to  this  unconscious  summons,  he 
would  leave  his  room,  and  walking  si- 
lently through  the  empty  streets,  would 
watch  her  solitary  light.  He  fancied 
sometimes  he  saw  her  shadow,  but  the 
knowledge  of  her  unhappiness  was  no 
fancy,  but  the  mysterious  omniscience 
of  a  love,  which  in  spite  of  all  barriers 
and  conventions  still  united  them. 

As  the  days  went  on,  the  instinct  to 
possess  his  own  became  intolerable. 
Aytoun  had  known  women,  but  not 
love,  and  the  virginity  of  heart  which 
was  his  gave  birth  to  wishes,  strong  as 
winged  eagles,  fresh  as  youth.  The 
passion  with  which  that  kiss  of  his  first 
love  had  enslaved  him,  he  knew  sur- 
passed any  of  the  fine  rigors  of  labor,  or 
the  joy  of  success.  Life  had  become 
Love,  where  it  had  been  Art;  with  one 
thought  he  effaced  ambition  —  even 
memory.  But  the  virility  of  mind  and 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  1 89 

the  unbreakable  will  by  which  he  had 
conquered  his  art,  was  now  the  life  and 
strength  of  his  demand  for  happiness; 
his  adoration  of  beauty  was  centralized 
into  a  passionate  personal  need. 

If  aided  by  his  American  instinct  and 
led  by  his  understanding  of  Helen's  na- 
ture, he  had  at  first  accepted  her  terms, 
and  consented  to  see  out  of  her  eyes, 
the  revelation  of  her  love  for  him  gave 
sudden  and  overpowering  strength  to  his 
desire  for  his  own  happiness.  He  be- 
gan to  think  of  her  in  a  closer  connec- 
tion with  his  own  wishes,  to  look  from 
his  own  point  of  view. 

Aytoun  had  lived  for  years  a  life  in 
which  the  binding  conventions  and 
distinctions  of  society  are  first  despised, 
and  then  forgotten.  He  had  never  him- 
self gone  contrary  to  any  of  its  written 
or  unwritten  laws,  but  he  had  lived 
apart  and  had  so  long  been  unconscious 
of  their  existence  that  they  now  seemed 
vague  and  shadowy  and  had  no  terror 


igO  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

for  him.  Thus  his  sympathy  for  Helen's 
position,  his  reverence  for  her  scruples 
was  reminiscent  and  intellectual,  and 
had  no  root  in  feeling. 

He  dreamed  sweet  and  impossible 
dreams  of  a  life  together  between  love 
and  work,  when  Helen  herself  should 
give  him  back  his  art.  Sometimes  the 
pride  which  prevented  him  from  again 
attempting  to  see  her  dictated  his  de- 
parture from  Newport;  but  although  he 
twice  made  his  arrangements  he  found 
his  resolution  unequal  to  the  test.  His 
mind  swayed  between  love  which  melt- 
ed into  tenderness  by  the  knowledge  of 
her  suffering,  and  anger  that  she  should 
seek  refuge  from  it  in  the  empty  dis- 
tractions of  her  outward  life. 

Days  passed  by ;  it  was  the  end  of 
August.  He  realized  that  his  endurance 
was  reaching  its  end.  The  processes  of 
his  brain  began  to  crystallize  into  a 
hopeless  and  agonizing  repetition,  and 
the  fear  of  his  slavery  sank  into  the  un- 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  igi 

consciousness  of  an  emotion,  which  in- 
undated thought. 

He  slept  only  from  exhaustion,  and 
often  forgot  to  eat.  He  went  irregu- 
larly to  his  rooms  in  the  town,  and  wan- 
dering often  far  away  among  the  cliffs, 
he  found  his  way  at  nightfall  to  the 
lonely  house  which  he  had  made  his 
studio.  There  he  awoke  late  one  night 
from  a  sleep  into  which  he  had  fallen,  a 
dreamless  sleep  of  utter  fatigue,  awoke 
with  his  brain  suddenly  clear. 

A  storm  of  wind  and  rain  blew  the 
dead  leaves  of  the  declining  summer  in 
gusts  against  the  window,  the  dampness 
and  the  salt  smell  of  the  sea  came  in 
through  the  door  which  a  blast  had 
blown  open.  Aytoun  shivered;  he  was 
faint  from  lack  of  food,  and  as  he  sat 
there  alone  in  the  darkness  he  trembled 
with  the  weakness  of  his  shattered 
nerves.  A  totally  unknown  feeling  of 
physical  helplessness  came  over  him, 
and  his  solitude  oppressed  him  strange- 


IQ2  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

ly;  but  his  brain  suddenly  regained  its 
reflective  power,  his  will  once  more  re- 
sponded to  his  call.  "  Come,  come,"  he 
said  aloud  ;  "  this  is  folly  ;  worse  than 
madness." 

He  rose,  shut  the  door,  and,  lighting 
some  candles,  found  some  biscuits,  made 
himself  a  drink  and  forced  himself  to 
reason,  to  formulate  logically  these 
thoughts,  which  had  been  beating 
through  his  brain  with  a  maddening 
and  futile  repetition. 

"  First,"  he  said,  "  it  is  clear  this  weak 
yielding  is  over.  She  either  loves  me 
or  she  does  not.  If  she  does  she  is 
suffering  quite  as  much  as  I  am.  Why 
is  it  she  refuses  to  see  me?  Her  re- 
sponsibility to  her  husband  compels  this 
sacrifice;  the  irresistible  Puritan  convic- 
tion that  happiness  is  wrong  is  governing 
her." 

He  went  on  from  point  to  point, 
forcing  his  mind  to  bare,  unimaginative 
forms  of  thought: 


A   SAWDUST   DOLL.  1 93 

"  Swayed  by  this  prejudice,  obedient 
to  her  inherited  leaning  toward  the  duty 
which  is  martyrdom,  she  does  not  real- 
ize her  responsibility  to  herself  or  to 
me.  She  either  loves  me  completely 
and  distrusts  herself,  or  else  she  is  tired 
of  a  caprice  which  threatens  to  become 
exacting,  and  is  glad  to  be  done  with 
it." 

The  sight  of  her  driving  past  him  on 
the  coach  came  back  again  with  its  un- 
reasoning pang  of  anger  and  suspicion, 
and  for  the  moment  dwelt  in  his  mind 
as  proof  of  her  heartlessness  and  insin- 
cerity, but  he  dismissed  it  quickly  ;  the 
thought  was  intolerable.  "  No,"  he 
continued,  "she  is  bound  by  the  con- 
ventions of  her  life,  her  loyalty  to  what 
she  believes  to  be  her  duty;  but  what 
are  the  facts?  In  preserving  the  vague 
and  bloodless  happiness  of  a  man  who 
never  really  loved  her  and  in  continu- 
ing this  life,  hollow,  profitless  and  de- 
stroying, she  is  sacrificing  the  best 
'3 


194  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

interests  and  possibilities  of  her  own 
nature. 

"  Can  I  make  her  feel  that  she  has 
duties  also  to  herself  and  me?  At 
least,"  he  thought,  "she  may  grant 
some  clemency.  I  will  accept  any 
terms,  wear  any  chains;  slavery  is  better 
than  death.  I  may  at  least  persuade 
her  to  see  me.  I  will  try." 

Aytoun  sat  down  and  began  to  write: 

"It  is  three  weeks  since  I  received  your 
short  and  cruel  note.  Did  you  know  how 
cruel  it  was,  or  what  wretched  pain  you  have 
caused  another  by  this  edict  of  your  implaca- 
ble will  ?  I  cannot  believe  you  did. 

"I  have  borne  the  torture  you  have  in- 
flicted, until  I  have  reached  the  end  of  my 
endurance.  I  may  not  see  you,  but  at  least 
you  shall  know  what  you  are  doing. 

"Since  you  bade  me  good-night  that  even- 
ing, you  have  not  for  one  waking  instant  left 
my  thoughts.  I  am  torn  between  belief  in 
you  and  a  doubt  of  your  sincerity  worse  than 
any  suffering  I  have  ever  imagined. 

"In  all  those  moments  of  our  happy 
friendship,  did  you  not  dream  I  loved  you? 
How  could  you  fail  to  know  it,  so  absolutely 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  195 

absorbed  as  I  was  in  your  lightest  word, 
your  smallest  movement.  We  were  happy; 
you  cannot  deny  it.  I  know  you  were  happy, 
for  your  eyes  told  me  so,  your  smile,  the 
whole  of  your  brightening  beauty.  At  first 
you  were  pleased  and  flattered  and  amused, 
and  then  you  were  so  grateful  that  I  under- 
stood you,  and  gave  you  what  with  all  that 
life  has  brought  you  you  still  longed  for? 
Why  should  I  not  have  understood  you? 
Love  has  taught  me  the  meaning  of  all  your 
lovely  face;  the  mysteries  of  your  voice,  the 
meaning  of  your  every  gesture  are  all  clear 
to  me.  All  my  life  I  have  loved  beauty  that 
I  might  understand  you,  and  now  I  know 
you  better  than  you  do  yourself.  Your 
thoughts,  those  thoughts  which  you  have 
brought  to  me,  so  modestly  sometimes,  did 
you  not  know  I  had  been  thinking  them 
over,  and  over  again  for  you,  until  you 
should  apprehend  them,  realize  your  own 
nature,  be  yourself?  And  I  watched,  oh! 
how  patiently,  for  the  look  in  your  eyes 
which  they  were  made  to  wear.  Your  eyes 
are  made  for  love,  my  darling,  pure  and 
proud  as  you  are;  you  cannot  forbid  them 
their  dreams  and  promises.  Where  did  they 
come  from,  what  ancestor  spending  his  sick 
soul  over  the  passions  and  the  languors 


ig6  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

of  the  east  set  those  strange  wonders  in  your 
face?— I  waited  for  the  look,  I  commanded 
it  one  day,  do  you  remember?  and  you 
yielded  it  up  to  me.  And  then  because  I 
saw  that  you  were  dreaming  of  friendship 
and  the  loves  of  the  mind  and  spirit,  and  as 
mind  and  spirit  were  yours  too,  I  did  my 
best  to  make  them  obedient  to  you,  and  you 
grew  very  happy,  and  your  best  self  blos- 
somed like  a  flower.  I  was  so  proud  of  what 
I,  who  was  your  bond  slave,  had  done,  and 
you  did  not  half  imagine  how  keen  and  fine 
and  natural  you  became.  You  will  be  re- 
membered for  your  loveliness,  but  if  you 
will  you  can  be  powerful  too,  and  know  the 
excitement  and  the  great  joy  which  comes 
from  the  use  of  talent.  With  me,  dearest, 
not  without  me.  There  is  one  crime  which 
nature  never  forgives,  the  refusal  to  live — 
this  is  the  unpardonable  sin.  You  live  now 
because  you  suffer,  needlessly,  cruelly,  mis- 
takenly, but  when  you  cease  to  suffer  you 
will  no  longer  be  you,  you  will  live,  your 
sweet  lips  will  smile,  your  eyes  will  dream, 
but  they  will  lie;  they  will  be  the  mask  of  a 
murdered  nature,  and  you,  dear,  are  your 
own  executioner.  I  do  not  need  to  be  told 
why  in  the  pride  of  your  purity  and  your 
honor  you  have  sent  me  from  you,  nor  do 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  197 

you  need  to  tell  me  that  it  is  because  you 
love  me  wholly  that  you  have  done  it.  What, 
dear,  do  you  not  dafe  to  see  me?  Ah,  how  I 
glorify  and  curse  the  moment  which  united 
only  to  separate  us  forever.  Ah,  love,  love, 
be  merciful.  Is  there  no  forgiveness,  no  re- 
treat? 

"  Listen,  my  own,  I  love  you  wholly,  every 
smallest  inch  of  you,  with  every  nerve;  but 
as  heaven  hears  me  that  passion  is  not 
stronger  than  my  reverence  for  you.  It  is 
you,  you,  you  I  love,  not  myself. 

"  Why  could  it  not  go  on  as  before?  I  will 
obey  your  slightest  wish. 

"I  will  not  attempt  to  deny  that  I  would 
take  you  away  from  this  life  you  are  leading, 
yes,  with  rapture,  if  you  would  consent  to 
come;  but  I  would  not  try  to  persuade  you. 
You  should  come,  if  come  at  all,  without  one 
pang  of  conscience,  without  the  remotest 
shadow  of  a  doubt. 

"But  you  will  not  come,  you  will  not 
change, — let  it  be  so.  My  love  suffices.  I 
will  change  for  you.  I  will  not  give  you  one 
moment  more  to  regret,  no  matter  under 
what  temptation.  I  will  control  myself  abso- 
lutely, only  trust  me!  You  will  never  realize 
what  it  has  cost  me  to  write  this  letter.  It  is 
my  last  appeal." 


Chapter    XIV. 

JYTOUN  gave  himself  one  week 
in  which  to  await  the  answer  to 
his  letter,  and  then,  should  none  come, 
he  decided  to  leave  Newport  and  Amer- 
ica together.  Three  days  passed,  and 
he  had  received  no  answer.  He  found 
that  if  he  had  calculated  his  endurance, 
he  had  miscalculated  his  capacity  for 
anger.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth 
day  after  he  had  sent  his  letter  to  Helen, 
he  shut  himself  grimly  in  his  rooms, 
and  awaited  her  answer.  As  the  hours 
went  by  inexorably,  the  waves  of  his 
love  rolled  back  upon  him  in  an  over- 
whelming flood  of  bitterness  and  rage, 
and  every  remembered  thought  of  his 
own  tenderness  and  trust  in  Helen 
turned  now  against  him  with  a  point  of 
steel.  What  had  been  love  and  pity  for  her 
198 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  1 99 

was  transformed  into  a  mad,  unreason- 
ing wish  to  hurt  her.  What  had  been 
suspicion,  seemed  now  to  him  only  a  pre- 
vision of  the  truth.  "False,  heartless," 
he  called  her  bitterly,  with  a  deep  scorn 
of  her,  and  deeper  contempt  for  himself, 
that  he  should  have  been  so  deceived. 
He  stood  at  his  window,  smoking  ner- 
vously cigar  after  cigar,  sometimes 
walking  the  room,  sometimes  sitting  in- 
tentionally immovable  with  teeth  shut 
and  hands  clasped  tightly,  in  his  fierce 
anger  and  resolve.  "She  never  loved 
me!"  he  said,  "I  served  to  fill  an  empty 
moment  in  an  idle  day,  I  have  been  a 
dummy  on  which  to  hang  her  flimsy 
theories  to  be  cast  down,  discarded  at 
the  first  sign  of  life." 

As  his  love  had  been  complete,  ab- 
sorbing, so  this  bitterness  turned  it  all 
to  poison,  and  Aytoun  suffered  a  terrible 
transformation  of  soul.  What  had  been 
gentleness  was  now  a  desire  for  revenge. 
What  had  been  the  unspoiled  poetry  of 


200  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

a  simple,  strong,  and  beauty  loving  na- 
ture, became  cynicism,  and  an  incurable 
pessimism. 

He  determined  to  see  her. 

"I  will  tell  her  to  her  face  what  I 
think  of  her,  for  one  moment  at  least 
her  pride  if  not  her  heart  shall  suffer. 
See  her? — yes — but  how?" 

Aytoun  turned  hastily  to  his  desk  and 
looked  over  the  invitations  which  lay 
there  in  an  unopened  pile.  Among 
them  he  found  one  for  that  night.  He 
noted  the  name,  that  of  Mrs.  Bertram,  of 
whose  balls  he  had  heard  Mrs.  Lindsay 
speak  in  that  conversation  in  the  studio, 
which  he  had  not  forgotten,  and  whose 
worldliness  had  even  then  revolted  him. 
He  noticed  the  words  "Bal  Poudre" 
written  in  one  corner,  and  in  the  other 
"very,  very  small  dance."  He  laughed 
bitterly.  "This  will  be  very  very  smart 
then.  She  will  not  fail  to  be  there." 
He  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  eight 
o'clock.  He  dressed  and  dined  alone 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  201 

at  the  club,  and  then  walked  rapidly 
down  the  street,  out  towards  the  cliffs, 
where  Mrs.  Bertram's  beautiful  house 
stood  by  the  water's  edge.  There  were 
lanterns  on  the  marble  gateposts,  and 
looking  beyond,  he  could  see  congrega- 
tions of  lights,  blue,  green  and  yellow, 
hung  among  the  trees  and  scattered  in 
groups  along  the  grass.  But  it  was  early 
yet;  there  were  no  carriages  in  sight. 
Aytoun  walked  away,  past  the  houses  out 
among  the  rocks  and  sand,  and  there  he 
sat  nursing  his  anger,  unspeakably 
wretched,  impatient  of  the  lagging  mo- 
ments as  they  passed. 

It  was  midnight  when  he  finally  re- 
turned. The  ball  was  in  full  progress. 
He  did  not  go  in  but  walked  around 
among  the  shadows  of  the  trees  to  the 
other  side  of  the  house  where  a  porch 
with  marble  pillars  faced  the  sea. 

Terraces  with  balustrades  and  steps  of 
marble,  descended  to  the  water's  edge. 
In  the  distance  groves  of  thickly  grow- 


2O2  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

ing  trees,  enclosed  the  brightness  of  the 
smooth  stretches  of  lawn,  where  trees 
cut  in  fantastic  old  world  shapes  cast 
their  strange  shadows  in  the  moonlight. 
Wreaths  of  roses  fallen  from  the  pillars 
lay  along  the  steps,  exhaling  their  odors 
in  the  air.  Above  the  sound  of  the 
music  and  laughter  from  within,  the 
voice  of  one  bird  singing  among  the 
trees  struck  with  liquid  sweetness  upon 
the  night.  The  regular  sound  of  the 
waves  came  up  from  the  sea,  whence 
floated  also  a  light  vapor  twisted  and 
curling  in  strange  shapes  among  the 
fantastic  figures  of  the  trees,  like  un- 
bodied spirits  drifting  in  a  dream. 

Through  the  open  windows  Aytoun 
could  see  the  dancers  swaying  in  the 
varying  figures  of  the  dance,  in  a  maze 
of  color,  light  and  sound.  The  room 
was  stately  with  marble  pillars  and  full 
of  the  sweet  dim  grace  of  the  Watteau 
panels,  whose  figures  were  repeated  in 
the  living  women,  lovely  in  their  old 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  2O3 

brocades  and  powdered  hair,  who  moved 
before  Aytoun's  eyes  like  pictures  living 
in  a  dream.  Sometimes  a  maiden  in 
quilted  petticoat  and  rose-piled  basket 
with  her  attendant  shepherd  would 
emerge  from  the  brightness  within  into 
the  moonlight  of  the  porch,  or  a  cav- 
alier with  feathered  hat  on  arm  would 
lift  his  lady's  train  over  the  low  window 
sill,  while  on  the  terraces,  or  stepping 
slowly  down  the  marble  stairs,  graceful 
figures  met  and  greeted  each  other, 
joining  in  groups  of  blue  and  white  and 
rose,  and  dividing  again  with  the  clear 
sound  of  floating  laughter.  Aytoun 
stood  alone  and  watched  the  chang- 
ing scene,  the  misery  of  his  sleepless 
nights  burning  in  his  eyes,  with  a 
strange  sense  of  unreality,  born  of  the 
beauty  of  the  night,  and  the  madness 
of  his  own  despair. 

Suddenly  one  of  the  groups  dissolved, 
and  a  woman  in  a  dress  of  rose  came  to- 
ward him.  He  could  see  her  as  she 


2O4  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

paused  near  where  he  stood.  There  were 
roses  in  her  powdered  hair,  rouge  and 
patches  on  her  face.  She  stopped  and 
clasped  her  hands  together  with  a  gesture 
of  pain,  breathing  deeply  in  her  solitude, 
as  if  she  could  bear  no  more.  "  Heaven 
help  me,"  she  sighed,  "how  can  I 
bear  it?" 

It  was  Helen! 

Aytoun  heard  her  voice.  He  emerged 
from  the  shadow  where  he  stood.  She 
looked  at  him  a  moment,  and  then  she 
turned  as  if  to  go.  He  caught  her  hand. 

"You  shall  not  go,"  he  exclaimed  in 
a  husky  voice;  "how  dare  you  make  me 
suffer  so?  Ah!  the  misery,  if  you  could 
know!" 

She  was  silent,  but  her  lips  moved  as 
she  gazed  at  his  white  face. 

"I  wrote  you,"  he  said.  "Did  you 
receive  the  letter?" 

The  lips  framed  "Yes."  He  looked 
at  her  a  moment  with  wondering  anger 
in  his  eyes. 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  2O$ 

"You  did  not  mean  to  answer  it?" 

She  looked  helplessly  from  side  to 
side,  and  then  up  into  his  face,  fright- 
ened at  its  expression  of  somber  rage. 

"Have  you  no  mercy?"  she  said  at 
last  in  a  low  voice,  which  broke,  trem- 
bling as  she  forced  herself  to  speak. 
"Can't  you  understand?  I  have  tried 
to  answer  it.  I  could  not — not  yet — 
wait." 

"Tell  me,"  he  insisted,  "do  you  wish 
this  to  be  the  end — think — I  shall  give 
you  no  other  chance — is  it  over?  Shall 
I  leave  you?" 

She  was  silent. 

"Helen,"  he  said  slowly,  "I  believe, 
in  spite  of  all  your  cruelty,  that  you 
love  me;  but  if  you  can  say  you  do  not, 
I  will  go.  Speak! — answer." 

"Oh,"  she  faltered,  painfully,  "it  is 
too  much.  I  cannot,  cannot,"  she 
stopped,  swaying,  and  he  caught  her  in 
his  arms.  For  one  moment  she  rested 
there,  blindly,  half  unconscious,  while 


206  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

he  kissed  her  brow,  her  eyes,  her  lips, 
while  he  murmured,  "No!  you  cannot, 
cannot  say  it." 

But  it  was  only  for  a  moment.  Then 
she  tore  herself  away  and  stood  apart 
from  him,  trembling,  covering  her  face, 
and  then  she  dropped  her  hands,  clasp- 
ing them  together,  and  raising  her  eyes 
to  his  face. 

"No!"  she  said,  in  a  voice  which  was 
strangely  clear,  though  faltering,  "I  do 
not  love  you." 

He  gazed  at  her  incredulously. 

"I  do  not  believe  you,"  he  said.  He 
came  near  her,  taking  her  face  in  his 
hands  and  looking  deep  into  her  eyes, 
which  bravely  returned  his  gaze.  "Say 
it  again! "  he  insisted  sternly.  "You  do 
not  love  me." 

She  made  no  reply. 

"Answer,"  he  cried,  "are you  woman? 
Are  you  real?" 

"No,"  she  answered.    "It  is  over." 

"Not   a  word,"    he   said,   "after  all 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  2O/ 

these  months!  Did  you  never  care  for 
me?" 

Still  she  was  silent,  wondering  at  her 
own  courage,  blindly  holding  to  the  un- 
truth which  should  accomplish  her 
sacrifice. 

"You  are  a  cruel  woman,"  he  said  at 
last,  each  word  falling  with  fatal  dis- 
tinctness from  his  white  lips.  "May 
heaven  forgive  you,  for  I  never  will." 

There  was  an  instant's  silence,  while 
Aytoun  and  Helen  there  in  the  moon- 
light of  the  music  haunted  night  looked 
once  more  upon  each  other. 

Then  he  grasped  her  wrists,  throwing 
them  from  him  with  an  almost  brutal 
gesture,  turned,  and  disappeared  among 
the  trees.  And  Helen,  with  heart  of 
ice,  passed  falteringly  up  the  marble 
steps,  quite  clear,  quite  conscious  in  the 
tragedy  of  her  resolve,  and  joined  the 
dancers  on  the  floor. 


Chapter  XV. 

|INE  months  after  Aytoun  had  left 
America  Mrs.  Rivington,  accom- 
panied by  Mrs.  Lindsay,  arrived  in 
Paris. 

The  winter  had  passed  with  the  same 
monotonous  gayety  in  which  Helen  had 
spent  the  ten  years  of  her  married  life. 
No  new  sensations  came  to  change  the 
current  of  her  thoughts,  which  as  the 
months  slipped  by  set  strongly  and 
more  strongly  towards  Aytoun. 

General  Rivington  had  never  again 
referred  to  the  subject  of  their  mid- 
night's conversation  in  the  library  at 
Newport.  Their  relations  resumed  with 
no  perceptible  change  the  habits  of 
courteous  independence,  mutual  and  un- 
questioned, which  had  characterized 
them  from  the  first.  If  General  Riving- 
208 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  209 

ton  sometimes  regretfully  stifled  a  wish 
to  speak  openly  to  her  of  her  trouble, 
she  did  not  know  it. 

Undistracted  from  the  ruling  thought 
of  her  mind,  left  alone  and  uninvaded 
by  any  outside  influence  which  could 
comprehend  her,  the  thought  of  Aytoun 
became  daily  more  and  more  absorb- 
ing. 

She  did  not  question  or  regret  her 
action  in  cutting  short  all  possibility  of 
seeing  him  again.  Not  once  during  all 
the  reveries  and  retrospects  of  the 
months  that  followed,  did  she  admit  to 
herself  that  she  could  have  followed  any 
other  course,  but  she  had  not  calculated 
the  effect  of  the  loneliness  which  pressed 
unrelentingly  upon  her  now  that  Aytoun 
had  returned  to  his  old  life,  and  gave  no 
sign  of  his  remembrance  of  her.  Dwell- 
ing in  the  solitude  of  her  mind  upon 
every  word  and  picture  of  him  which 
remained  to  her,  their  friendship  and 
the  hours  which  she  had  spent  in  his 
14 


2IO  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

companionship  assumed  an  ever  grow- 
ing importance. 

Her  outer  life  became  an  empty  form; 
within  she  lived  in  his  remembrance. 

Little  by  little  she  lost  her  power  over 
people,  and  her  ability  to  assume  an  in- 
terest in  what  went  on  about  her.  The 
streams  of  her  nature  all  flowed  inward. 

Her  friends  began  to  whisper  of  the 
change  they  saw  in  her,  and  General 
Rivington  became  at  last  anxiously  ap- 
prehensive. Finally  one  day  Mrs.  Lind- 
say descended  upon  her  in  an  indignant 
flurry  of  decision. 

"You  are  pale  and  ill,  my  child," she 
said,  "you  must  have  a  change!  John 
has  given  in  at  last.  I  am  going  to 
Paris  next  week,  and  you  are  going 
with  me.  I  shall  see  your  husband 
myself.  Now  you  needn't  talk — you 
are  going." 

So  it  happened  that  when  the  chest- 
nut trees  were  just  breaking  into  blos- 
som along  the  Champs  Elysees,  Helen 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  2 1  I 

and  her  friend  found  themselves  in 
Paris. 

There  for  a  fortnight,  Helen  lent  her- 
self to  her  friend's  caprices,  followed  her 
to  her  conferences  with  her  numerous 
dressmakers,  and  dined  with  her  at  the 
different  restaurants  with  the  acquaint- 
ances they  met  in  numbers,  fluttering 
up  and  down  the  Rue  de  la  Paix  in 
their  search  for  clothes  and  jewels. 

Mrs.  Lindsay  was  in  the  highest  spir- 
its, and  Helen  followed  her,  trying  to 
enjoy  her  gayety,  endeavoring  to  be  in- 
terested herself.  But  she  was  compelled 
to  admit  her  efforts  fruitless.  The  noise 
of  the  streets  with  their  wheeling  car- 
riages, the  atmosphere  of  unrest  and  ex- 
citement, tried  her  nerves  unexpectedly. 
The  details  of  shopping  failed  to  amuse 
and  only  tired  her,  and  instead,  the 
thought  which  she  had  preferred  to  be- 
lieve she  could  subdue  kept  rising, 
rising,  to  the  surface  of  her  mind,  com- 
manding her  attention.  She  was  in 


212  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

Paris  under  the  same  sky,  breathing  the 
same  air  with  Aytoun.  "  Philip!  Philip 
Aytoun."  This  was  the  name,  the  one 
name,  which  Paris  said  to  her.  At  any 
moment  she  might  see  him;  in  an  hour, 
if  she  should  write,  he  might  be  with 
her. 

Again  and  yet  again  she  found  herself 
compelled  to  fight  the  same  battle 
which  she  had  won  so  hardly,  while  her 
strength  was  still  unimpaired,  before 
this  winter  of  suffering  had  passed  over 
her. 

His  success  was  on  every  lip.  His 
name  in  the  papers.  His  pictures  were 
in  the  salon.  She  went  often  to  see 
them,  rashly  abandoning  herself  to  her 
persistent  thought  of  him.  She  found 
she  could  no  longer  command  the 
thought  of  a  complete  victory  over  her- 
self, and  she  set  herself  hourly  tasks  to 
cheat  her  failing  strength.  She  would 
resolve  at  each  day's  waking  that  she 
would  not  write  that  morning,  and  when 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  213 

afternoon  had  come  that  she  would  not 
write  till  night.  So  she  surmounted  her 
days. 

His  words  constantly  recurred  to  her. 

"  You  suffer  now,  but  a  time  will  come 
when  you  will  suffer  no  more,  and  then 
you  will  no  longer  be  you."  These  words 
now  seemed  prophetic  to  her  of  these 
days,  when  all  the  strength  she  pos- 
sessed was  used  in  subduing  every  im- 
pulse, since  every  impulse  set  towards 
him,  and  as  her  bodily  strength  declined, 
she  realized  that  every  quality  of  which 
her  individuality  was  composed  also 
suffered  diminution,  and  as  suffering 
was  unique  in  her  experience,  so  her 
vision  was  without  prospective.  No  hilly 
retrospect  of  descents  and  painful  but 
sure  regainings  of  lost  altitudes  brought 
hope  to  Helen.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
she  was  daily  committing  the  suicide  of 
herself.  Dulled  brain  and  weakened  im- 
pulse drew  the  curtains  of  her  soul;  she 
only  felt  the  darkness. 


214  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

To  break  to  pieces  in  a  whirlpool  of 
destruction,  or  to  be  ground  slowly  to 
nothingness  on  the  rocks  of  renuncia- 
tion, of  self-nullification ;  this  was  the 
alternative  which  swayed  her  mind, 
while  her  instinct  held  firm  ;  but  she 
began  to  question  the  manner  of  her 
rigid  dealing  with  herself,  to  blame  her- 
self that  she  had  refused  to  see  him  and 
had  failed  to  reply  to  his  letter;  what 
had  so  long  seemed  to  her  the  single 
and  inevitable  course  began  now  to  ap- 
pear crude,  harsh  and  cruel. 

Involuntarily  her  mind  began  to  form 
sentences  of  excuse  and  explanation,  and 
she  composed  many  letters  to  Aytoun  in 
her  thoughts;  but  here  in  Paris  where 
he  might  think  she  had  followed  him, 
pride  with  principle  made  a  double  bar- 
rier against  desire. 

Her  manner  toward  her  friend  became 
more  and  more  abstracted — some  days 
she  was  almost  irritable.  There  was  a 
transparent  look  about  her  temples,  and 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  21$ 

the  hollowness  of  her  cheeks  marred 
the  pure  line  from  chin  to  brow.  Symp- 
toms of  a  serious  prostration  of  the 
nerves  began  to  appear.  She  found 
herself  unaccountably  reluctant  to  per- 
form the  slightest  outward  act  of  life; 
conceived  a  strange  aversion  to  see  any 
of  her  friends;  was  a  prey  to  a  misera- 
ble feeling  of  apprehension,  and  slept 
a  light  and  broken  slumber,  awakening 
at  sunrise. 

One  morning  Mrs.  Lindsay,  rising 
earlier  than  was  her  wont  and  wishing 
to  speak  with  Helen  about  some  project 
of  the  day,  crossed  the  little  salon  which 
divided  their  rooms  and  knocked  at  her 
door.  Hearing  no  answer  and  knowing 
how  early  it  was  her  habit  to  awake,  she 
knocked  again  more  loudly,  then  yield- 
ing to  a  sudden  feeling  of  alarm,  she 
opened  the  door  and  entered  the  room. 

Helen  was  lying  motionless  and 
whiter  than  her  pillow;  she  was  breath- 
ing, but  her  heart  on  which  Mrs.  Lind- 


2l6  A   SAWDUST   DOLL. 

say  laid  her  hand  in  terror  was  scarcely 
beating.  She  had  fainted  in  her  sleep. 

Restoratives  and  stimulants  revived 
her,  but  now,  thoroughly  alarmed,  Mrs. 
Lindsay  sent  for  a  physician,  who  or- 
dered them  immediately  out  of  Paris. 

"  She  is  too  ill  to  bear  the  journey 
home,"  he  said;  "  don't  alarm  her,  but 
take  a  house  in  the  country  for  a  month 
at  least.  She  must  have  complete  rest." 

Once  assured  of  the  necessity  of  a 
serious  care  of  her  friend,  Mrs.  Lindsay 
busied  herself  about  the  arrangements 
for  their  removal,  and  discovered  a 
house  near  the  forest  of  Fontainebleu, 
not  far  from  Montigny,  on  the  river 
Loing. 

Helen  was  pleased  when  she  was  in- 
formed of  this  plan  and  smiled  a  little 
pale  smile,  as  they  drove  together  one 
morning  in  mid-May  toward  the  Gare 
de  Lyon. 

The  high  pale  blue  of  the  sky,  with 
the  characteristic  gray  haze  of  Paris 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  21 7 

stretched  above  the  Arc.  This  sky  had 
always  seemed  to  Helen  distant  and  in- 
sincere— an  artificial  heaven,  not  the 
sky  which  broods  low  over  the  meadows 
and  the  hills,  rich  in  azure  or  in  storms. 
The  chestnut  trees  were  in  full  bloom 
with  their  glimpses  of  lighted  restaurants 
between,  their  surrounding  streams  of 
passing  humanity.  Yes,  she  was  glad  to 
escape  for  awhile,  and  wondered  vague- 
ly if  in  the  country  where  she  was  going 
nature  would  consent  to  come  near, 
would  be  generous  and  comforting. 

The  journey  seemed  long;  the  jolting 
of  the  train  fatigued  her.  She  was  re- 
lieved when  they  arrived  at  the  town  of 
Fontainebleu  and  had  exchanged  the 
railway  carriage  for  a  landau,  slow  and 
lumbering,  which  carried  them  smoothly 
through  the  streets  of  the  little  city  out 
into  the  country. 

Helen  and  her  friend  leaned  back  in 
their  seats  and  breathed  the  fresh  air  of 
spring. 


218  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

Mrs.  Lindsay  laughed  at  the  children 
who  ran  out  from  the  cottages  by  the 
roadside,  and  threw  them  coins  from 
her  little  gold  purse.  She  was  delighted 
with  the  novelty  of  her  project,  and  en- 
thusiastic in  her  promises  of  returning 
health  to  Helen. 

"  You  will  be  strong,"  she  said,  "  and 
well  when  I  have  done  with  you.  Don't 
you  worry,  my  dear,  about  anything. 
I'll  take  care  of  you." 

Helen  sat  quietly  enjoying  the  relief 
from  the  noise  of  Paris  as  they  drove 
slowly  along.  Presently  they  entered 
the  forest.  A  light  cloud  of  pale  green 
foliage  floated  in  the  tops  of  the  taller 
trees,  around  whose  trunks  the  moss, 
young  and  yellow,  looked  like  fallen 
sunshine.  The  great  oaks  bore  only 
their  millions  of  reddish  buds  shining 
with  sap,  and  the  elms  scattered  the 
dead  leaves  of  the  past  summer  upon 
the  path. 

The  grass  still  fresh  and  unscorched 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  2IQ 

by  the  heats  of  the  summer,  was  green 
and  strong. 

The  sun  was  shining  through  the 
branches,  but  little  puffs  of  cool  fresh- 
ness stirred  the  air.  Looking  above, 
towards  the  light  blue  sky  with  its  float- 
ing tufts  of  clouds,  Helen  delighted  in 
the  fine  tracery  of  the  branches  still 
delicately  distinct  in  their  gauzelike 
veil  of  green,  and  listened  to  the  chirp- 
ings and  stirrings  of  the  mating  birds. 
As  they  drove  on,  the  little  innumerable 
stirs  and  sounds  in  the  great  stillness 
soothed  her  unhappiness,  quieted  and 
purified  her  spirit. 

"How  good  you  are  to  me,  Kate," 
she  said  turning  to  her  friend.  "  I  feel 
better  already.  It  is  delicious." 

They  emerged  from  the  forest,  driv- 
ing through  the  white  streets  of  Mar- 
lotte  just  as  the  sun's  rays  were  striking 
on  the  wmdow  panes  of  the  little  houses 
which  stood  closely  together  by  the 
roadside.  The  walls  were  of  plaster, 


22O  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

freshly  whitened,  the  red  tiled  roofs 
glowed  under  the  horizontal  rays  of  the 
sun,  blossoming  lilacs  showed  here  and 
there  over  the  walls,  and  garden  flowers 
through  the  open  gateways.  Neatly 
dressed  children  splashed  water  at  the 
pumps,  or  drove  flocks  of  geese  from 
under  the  horse's  feet. 

After  they  had  left  the  village,  they 
drove  another  half  hour  by  the  edge  of 
the  forest,  and  reached  their  destination 
just  at  night  fall. 

It  was  a  curious  but  attractive  house, 
restored  and  put  in  order  by  an  old 
general,  a  favorite  of  the  last  empire, 
who  had  retired  to  the  quiet  of  the 
country  to  pass  his  declining  years,  but 
had  been  drawn  into  a  rash  enthusiasm 
for  Boulanger  and  had  lost  his  fortune 
together  with  his  hopes  of  a  restoration 
of  the  empire.  The  house  had  been 
left  for  them  quite  unchanged,  the 
owner  being  only  too  delighted  at  the 
chance  to  make  a  few  economies. 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  221 

Helen  and  Mrs.  Lindsay  were  charmed 
and  amused  with  their  surroundings. 
Down  stairs  there  was  an  office,  the  din- 
ing-room and  kitchen,  and  two  smaller 
rooms.  Up  stairs  a  large  salon,  smok- 
ing-room, and  two  bed  rooms  with 
smaller  ones  adjoining  hung  with 
Neapolitan  shawls  and  arranged  as 
dressing  rooms.  Two  servants  had 
been  left  in  the  house,  who  with  Mrs. 
Lindsay's  and  Helen's  two  maids  sufficed 
for  their  needs. 

The  house  was  situated  near  the  river 
Loing,  divided  from  it  only  by  a  gar- 
den, which  adjoined  an  orchard  filled 
with  blossoms. 

Helen  opened  the  window  and 
breathed  the  fresh  air  which  blew  across 
the  meadows,  which  she  could  see  dimly 
in  the  twilight  on  the  other  side  of  the 
stream.  "Here,"  she  thought,  " I  will 
learn  to  be  happy,  and  grow  strong 
once  more." 

After  they  had  dined,  they  returned 


222  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

again  to  the  salon,  as  it  was  not  yet 
warm  enough  to  stay  out  of  doors. 

Helen  was  interested  in  this  French 
interior  and  examined  with  curiosity  the 
portraits,  the  vitrines  with  their  old 
china,  their  relics  and  their  medals,  and 
was  amused  by  the  curious  arrangement 
and  disposition  of  the  furniture.  Her 
bed  room,  hung  in  dim  blue-gray, 
pleased  her.  Its  portraits  of  saints  upon 
the  walls,  its  little  font  for  holy  water 
above  the  bed  and  its  priedieu  gave  to 
this  quiet  room  in  the  silence  of  the  sur- 
rounding trees,  the  reposefulness  of  a 
chapel. 

But  Mrs.  Lindsay  was  delighted  with 
the  smoking-room,  where  the  fallen  idol 
of  this  military  recluse  looked  boldly 
out  from  its  frame  surrounded  by  swords 
and  rifles.  Uniforms,  humorously  dis- 
membered made  the  ornaments  of  chairs 
and  curtains.  She  threw  herself  in  a 
chair,  whose  back  was  adorned  with  a 
red  coat  with  hanging  empty  sleeves. 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  223 

She  wound  them  about  her  waist,  and 
laughed  merrily. 

Helen  laughed  herself.  "How  ab- 
surd 1"  she  said. 

And  yet  somehow  this  fantastic  sen- 
timentality jarred  upon  her,  this  strange 
expression  of  the  ardor  of  a  lost  cause 
seemed  too  grotesquely  pathetic.  It  was 
too  appropriate,  she  thought. 

Still  laughing,  she  looked  up  at  the 
portrait,  but  her  thoughts  turned  upon 
the  ignoble  end  of  a  career,  and  the  love 
which  sacrificed  an  empire.  "It  is 
wonderful,"  she  said  to  her  friend, — 
"Sublime  folly  perhaps  after  all." 

"What  do  you  mean,"  inquired  Mrs. 
Lindsay,  whose  knowledge  of  history 
was  elemental.  "Tell  me  about  it" 

"Would  you  believe  in  a  man  who 
could  give  up  what  seemed  to  him  the 
certainty  of  a  throne  for  the  love  of  a 
woman  dying  of  consumption?" 

"No,  indeed,  I  would  not,"  she  shook 
her  head  decisively. 


224  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

"You  may,"  said  Helen,  pointing  to 
the  portrait,  "for  there  he  is." 

"She  probably  got  well,  and  lived  to 
make  him  regret  it." 

"No,  my  dear,  she  died;  and  two 
months  after  he  shot  himself  upon  her 
grave." 

Mrs.  Lindsay's  eyes  looked  around 
with  astonishment,  and  her  face  sobered. 

"Really?"  she  asked.  "Then  I  sup- 
pose he  must  have  cared." 

She  got  up  from  her  chair,  and  moved 
around  the  room.  Helen  threw  herself 
on  a  sofa  beside  the  fire.  Mrs.  Lindsay 
lighted  a  cigarette  and  came  and  sat  be- 
side her  friend. 

"How  do  you  feel,  not  too  tired? — 
It's  nice  here,  isn't  it?" 

"No,  dear,  thank  you ;  I  am  not 
tired." 

"Then  we'll  talk  a  little." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"Did  you  ever  know  one?"  she  asked, 
suddenly. 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  225 

"Know  who?"  smiled  Helen.  "You 
are  charmingly  vague." 

"Why!  any  man  who  cared  for  you, 
instead  of  for  himself?" 

Helen  turned  her  head  upon  the  cush- 
ions, and  looked  at  her  friend.  She  was 
tapping  her  foot  nervously  on  the  floor, 
her  quick,  black  eyes  full  of  an  impatient 
indignation. 

No  word  of  confidence  in  regard  to 
the  deeper  experiences  of  their  lives  had 
ever  passed  between  these  women,  who 
had  seen  each  other  constantly  for  years. 
Helen  thought  a  moment. 

"Yes,  and  no,"  she  said.  "I  have 
certainly  known  some  who  were  con- 
vinced they  cared." 

"Yes,  so  have  I;  but  they  never  con- 
vinced me." 

"Perhaps  you  didn't  wish  to  be." 

"Ah,"  she  said,  "perhaps." 

There  was  another  pause.  The  mur- 
mur of  the  river  came  in  through  the 
window.  The  lamp,  with  its  red  shade, 
15 


226  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

cast  a  warm  light  upon  Helen's  face 
among  the  cushions,  and  shone  upon 
the  black  braids  of  Mrs.  Lindsay's  hair. 
The  room  had  an  intimate  air. 

"And  if  you  did,"  Helen's  voice  broke 
the  silence,  "  would  you  give  up  anything 
because  of  it?" 

"That's  just  it,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsay,  sit- 
ting up  straight  in  her  chair.  "There's 
always  some  terrible  price  to  pay,  and 
such  indignation  at  the  mere  breath  of 
hesitation." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Helen.  "They 
call  it  calculation  with  a  fine  scorn,  and 
declare  love  is  not  love  if  it  can  count 
the  cost." 

"I  know  that  contempt,"  said  Mrs. 
Lindsay,  "the  contempt  of  the  high- 
wayman when  his  victim  hesitates  to 
give  up  his  money  or  his  life." 

Helen  laughed  a  little. 

"You  put  it  strongly,  I  think." 

"And  what  do  they  give  us,"   Mrs. 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  22; 

Lindsay  continued,  indignantly;  "noth- 
ing, when  the  chase  is  over." 

Helen  shook  her  head. 

"You  are  not  quite  fair,"  she  said, 
after  all.  "You  have  everything  on 
earth  you  want,  plenty  of  money,  inde- 
pendence; I  am  sure  John  never  refused 
you  anything  in  all  his  life." 

"No!  nothing  but  his  companion- 
ship," she  said.  "You  know  how  it  is. 
Our  husbands  give  us  everything  but 
themselves.  Did  you  ever  see  a  man 
run  after  a  street  car?"  she  asked, 
whimsically.  "  He  shouts  and  tears  after 
it,  would  give  his  fortune  rather  than 
lose  it;  and  when  he  gets  it,  he  sits 
down  calmly,  takes  out  his  paper,  and 
begins  to  read." 

They  both  laughed  merrily. 

"You  are  right,"  said  Helen. 

"Oh  dear!"  sighed  Mrs.  Lindsay;  "is 
it  really  all?" 

Helen  was  silent.     "It  can't  be,"  she 


228  A   SAWDUST    DOLL. 

said,  at  last.  "  Did  you  notice  that  for- 
lorn young  couple  on  the  steamer? 
The  man  was  a  soldier  in  the  Italian 
army;  very  poor,  they  told  me,  who  had 
come  over  to  America  on  leave  to  see  if 
he  could  do  anything  to  improve  his 
fortunes.  But  he  had  failed,  and  they 
were  returning.  He  was  small  and  thin, 
and  not  good  looking,  but  his  wife  had 
the  sweetest  face  I  ever  saw.  They 
were  always  together,  and  looked  per- 
fectly happy.  I  came  across  them  one 
day  in  an  out  of  the  way  corner.  She 
was  reading  aloud  to  him.  One  hand 
held  the  book;  the  other  was  clasped  in 
his,  which  was  around  her  neck.  If 
you  could  have  seen  her  expression! 
In  spite  of  all  their  poverty,  there  it 
was — the  real  thing  —  happiness.  I 
shall  never  forget  it.  It  was  in  her 
face." 

"I  did  see  it,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsay; 
"but  I  didn't  think  you  had." 

Helen's  eyes  filled   with   tears,   and 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  22Q 

when  she  looked  at  her  friend,  she  was 
brushing  away  her  own. 

"  How  silly  we  are,"  she  said.  "  Come, 
dearest,  this  is  too  late  for  an  invalid. 
We  must  go  to  bed." 


Chapter  XVI. 

lELEN  and  Mrs.  Lindsay  spent 
their  first  days  in  the  country,  in- 
doors, housed  by  a  continued  rain.  The 
utter  peace  and  quiet  was  reposing  to 
Helen,  although  she  grew  no  stronger; 
but  Mrs.  Lindsay  became  restless,  and 
Helen  insisted  that  she  should  take  a  hol- 
iday, not  regretting  the  prospect  of  a 
few  hours  complete  solitude.  So  on  the 
first  bright  day  Mrs.  Lindsay  went  to 
Paris,  and  Helen  was  left  alone.  She 
wandered  about  the  house  at  first,  rest- 
lessly. Then  she  took  a  book  to  a  ham- 
mock under  the  trees,  but  could  not  fix 
her  attention  on  its  pages;  the  words 
passed  over  the  surface  of  her  mind  and 
left  no  trace.  As  afternoon  came  on  she 
threw  a  scarf  about  her,  and  walking 
slowly  in  her  light  dress,  she  took  her 
230 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  23! 

way  bareheaded  through  the  orchard 
towards  the  river  path.  It  was  a  radiant 
day  after  the  warm  rain,  the  orchards 
were  in  full  blossom.  Beyond  the  river, 
the  meadows  were  tender  with  young 
green.  The  triumphant  summons  and 
echoes  of  the  birds  filled  the  branches, 
stirring  with  a  fragrant  breeze.  It  was 
the  climax  of  spring.  Helen  stopped 
by  a  tree,  whose  name  she  did  not  know. 
It  was  flaming  with  deep  pink  blossoms. 
She  lifted  her  face  towards  the  sweeping 
branches,  breathing  deep  of  its  luxuriant 
promises;  her  face  showed  transparently 
delicate  against  those  blazing  blossoms. 
Her  hands  trembled  a  little  as  she  drew 
them  towards  her.  She  was  no  longer 
the  brilliant  beauty  of  a  year  ago,  but 
this  new  loveliness  was  ethereal,  rarer. 
With  her  light  and  swaying  step,  her 
white  scarf  floating  from  her  shoulders, 
she  moved  among  the  blossoming  trees 
like  the  returning  spirit  of  the  spring. 
She  had  come  to  nature  for  repose 


232  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

and  cure,  sometimes  she  found  it,  but 
not  to-day.  The  appeal  of  all  this 
springing  beauty  was  intolerable.  Her 
whole  being  thrilled  to  its  command  of 
happiness. 

It  seemed  incredible  that  she  alone 
must  shut  her  heart  against  this  singing 
harmony  about  her.  To-day  it  was  not 
resignation  which  these  flowers  and 
birds  and  trees  brought  to  her,  but  a 
bitter  revolt  against  the  cruelty  of  life. 
"Do  these  birds  reason,"  she  asked  her- 
self; "and  these  flowers  think?  They 
live  as  they  die,  in  unconscious  obedi- 
ence to  the  law  which  made  them."  As 
she  walked  there  slowly  among  the 
trees,  all  her  torture  re-awoke  with  ten- 
fold bitterness. 

"Ah,  life!  life!"  she  sighed,  "must  I 
always  pass  you  by?" 

Her  feet  faltered  in  their  steps,  she 
stopped  a  moment,  realizing  almost 
gladly  how  weak  she  had  become.  A 
breath  of  dampness  blew  up  from  the 


A    SAWDUST    DOLL.  233 

river,  she  shivered,  and  drew  her  scarf 
about  her  shoulders,  and  for  the  first 
time,  let  her  thoughts  wander  as  they 
would.  Physical  exhaustion  had  at  last 
loosened  her  unrelenting  hold  upon 
them.  Now  they  flew  to  Aytoun.  As 
she  stood  there  trembling,  her  eyes  dark 
with  dreams,  she  clasped  her  hands  to- 
gether in  a  pose  of  willful  quiet,  while 
she  imagined  to  herself  their  meeting. 
Already  in  her  thoughts  she  had  written 
to  Aytoun;  now  she  saw  the  vision  of 
his  coming.  Her  eyes  dwelt  upon  the 
meadows  beyond,  bathed  in  the  golden 
light  of  the  declining  sun,  and  through 
a  mist  of  tears,  she  saw  him  stepping 
towards  her  over  those  fields  of  light, 
love  in  his  eyes,  the  summer  wind  and 
sunshine  in  his  hair.  Once  more  she 
heard  that  unforgotten  voice.  "  Thank 
God,"  she  thought  it  said;  "you  have 
sent  for  me.  It  is  not  too  late."  She 
felt  his  touch,  his  kiss  upon  her  mouth 
— such  happiness! — was  it  of  earth?  She 


234  A    SAWDUST    DOLL. 

felt  herself  sinking,  sinking,  her  will 
following  where  her  fancy  led;  her  lips 
moved,  she  raised  her  hands  to  her  eyes 
to  shut  out  that  inner  vision,  blinding, 
unescapable.  "God  help  me,"  she 
whispered  dumbly.  Still  that  strange 
slipping,  dissolving  of  her  will!  As  she 
stood  there,  keenly  conscious  of  this 
fatal  drama  in  her  mind,  silent,  motion- 
less, the  moments  passing  each  one  irre- 
parable and  momentous,  she  heard  the 
slightest  sound,  the  stirring  of  the 
leaves,  the  river's  quiet  murmur  flowed 
through  her  brain. 

Suddenly  she  heard  a  clear  high  voice: 

"  Nini  printemps,  dans  ma  m6moire, 
C'est  a  toi  la  place  d'honneur— 
Sans  bijoux  ni  manteau  noir, 
Tu  as  sQ  trouver  le  bonheur! " 

It  sang. 

She  dropped  her  hands  and  listened. 
The  sound  seemed  to  draw  nearer,  and 
then  around  a  bend  in  the  stream  came 
a  boat  filled  with  girls  and  men. 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  235 

How  near  it  was!  she  was  too  startled 
to  move.  She  could  see  their  faces 
plainly.  A  young  man  in  a  faded  vel- 
veteen jacket  lounged  in  the  bottom  of 
the  boat  between  two  girls  with  yellow 
hair  and  painted  cheeks. 

Another  man  with  a  straight  brimmed 
hat  pushed  back  over  his  brown  curls 
stood  behind  them,  singing  as  he  bent 
to  his  oar. 

They  were  laughing  and  shouting  in 
a  merry  confusion,  which  startled  the 
stillness  of  the  river: 

"  En  route  il  faut  rire, 
Cupidon  m'inspire! " 

The  boat  was  filled  with  the  blossomed 
branches  of  the  trees.  Another  man  in 
the  bow  of  the  boat,  had  his  arm  around 
the  girl  who  was  singing.  His  back  was 
turned  to  Helen,  but  she  could  see  the 
girl,  who  was  young  with  a  strange  dark 
face.  Her  hair  was  drawn  down  over 
her  brow  in  a  deep  rippled  mass.  Her 
head  was  bare,  her  white  curved  throat 


236  A   SAWDUST   DOLL. 

throbbed  with  her  song.  As  they  drew 
nearer,  Helen  could  hear  the  words  she 
sang: 

"  Par  les  sentiers  remplis  d'  ivresse 

Aliens  ensemble,  a  petits  pas, 

Je  veux  t'  offrir,  oh  !  ma  maitresse, 

Le  premier  bouquet  de  lilas! " 

They  were  quite  unconscious  of  her 
presence  there,  so  near  them.  Suddenly 
the  man  in  the  bow  turned  his  head,  and 
looked  full  into  Helen's  eyes. 

It  was  Philip.     So  he  came  to  her. 

One  sharp  and  startled  look  of  recog- 
nition from  a  face  so  changed,  so  old, 
so  bitter,  that  Helen's  stricken  eyes 
scarce  knew  that  it  was  he,  and  then  he 
turned  away,  and  gave  no  sign  that  he 
had  seen  her,  taking  up  the  refrain  of  the 
song,  joining  the  others  in  their  shouts 
and  laughter. 

Helen  still  stood  watching  them. 

Je  veux  t'  offrir,  oh  !  ma  maitresse 
Le  premier  bouquet  de  lilas— 
Nini  printemps! 


A   SAWDUST    DOLL.  237 

She  threw  out  her  hands  blindly  about 
the  trunk  of  the  tree  near  which  she 
stood.  A  great  terror  filled  her  eyes. 

"What  have  I  done,"  she  whispered. 
"What  have  I  done?" 

She  stood  there  helpless,  trembling, 
hearing  only  that  repeated  song. 

Nini  printemps,  dans  ma  memoire 
Nini  printemps — Nini  printemps — 

She  knew  that  it  was  over,  the  suffer- 
ing, the  longing,  all  the  joy  and  pain. 
Rolled  up  like  a  scroll — part  of  the  past 
— forever. 

The  song  lingered  in  the  air,  the  boat 
with  its  burden  of  flowers  and  laughter 
vanished  like  a  vision — with  it  vanished 
her  youth. 

THE    END. 


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